


The Snow Fairy

by anarchyarmin



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: About as historically accurate as the animated Anastasia film, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Astral Projection, Dreamwalking, Everyone Is Gay, Fae & Fairies, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Ice Powers, Internalized Homophobia, Long-Term Relationship(s), Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Minor Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Minor Leo de la Iglesia/Ji Guang-Hong, Minor Mila Babicheva/Sara Crispino, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Shamanism, Witchcraft, otayuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 99,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23896645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchyarmin/pseuds/anarchyarmin
Summary: “You should never have been made what you are,” Seung-gil said. “You are miserable at being an elemental. You are much too emotional, too easily hurt, too volatile. You love the human world too much--"“What do you mean, I love the human world?” Yuri cracked with anger, laughing in spite of himself. “Every day I am blown away by the nonsense of it--”“And constantly trying to find your place in it,” Seung-gil said, “so you can be with that mortal man you love.”❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄Otabek is an outsider in St. Petersburg, a young military engineer who is both admired and hated for his talent, and a favorite of the flamboyant General Nikiforov. His quiet, predictable life changes forever when he accepts a mysterious gift from the Countess Mila Babicheva.❄Yuri is an ice elemental who guards a beautiful lake on Mila's property. When he taunts the local witch, Kerebos, for crying his eyes out over his broken heart, Kerebos casts a curse on Yuri that can only be broken by true love. Kerebos thinks he's sent the proud fairy to his death, but Yuri is determined to break the curse at any cost.❄A very long, elaborate fantasy AU, set in late 19th century Russia.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 68
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to point out historical errors and inaccuracies! I'm sure there are loads. No patronymics because I just didn't feel like it. ^^

Autumn wasn’t good enough. Yuri craved the winter. Even on a splendid, nearly perfect day. Yuri sighed and watched a leaf fall into the lake in front of him, sending a single delicate circle across the surface. Then, he began to feel strange. He couldn’t shake the feeling of something approaching, like a shadow. 

He looked around. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Soft arrows of light shot through the trees as the sun began to set. In the distance, he could hear a doe creeping softly through the woods with her fawn. No, this was something else; Yuri had never sensed such gloom coming from any of his animal neighbors.

He sat down at the base of a birch tree at the water’s edge and looked at the horizon. Soon the gold light would turn to pink, and the sky would fill up with stars that teased him and reminded him of his beloved snowflakes. The thought made him smile. But it didn’t get rid of the eerie feeling around him.

“Yuri!” shouted a tiny voice from far off. A little crow named Fedya bolted more than flew through the air and somersault landed in Yuri’s palm. Fedya still had quite a few flying lessons to go. “Hey, why were you sighing, Yuri? Is something wrong?” Fedya cocked his head to the side and blinked, black eyes shining. Fedya was one of Yuri’s only friends.

“Oh, that. You’ll never guess...” He sank down a little lower against the tree trunk.

“You miss the winter, don’t you?” 

“Come on, Fedya. I wish it could always be winter,” Yuri said.

Fedya puffed up his feathers. “But Yuri! That would be against the laws of nature!”

Yuri laughed. “Yeah, I’m painfully aware,” Yuri said. “It’s ok, Fedya.” Yuri ran two fingers down the bird’s back. Fedya settled down and squinted happily at the touch. “I’m just saying how I want things to be. I’m not saying that’s how they ought to be.” Nature was made of rules and patterns, and it was part of Yuri’s duty to keep them in balance. It was something he’d known since the day he first appeared on Earth.

He wondered whether to mention the strange presence to Fedya, but he didn’t want to scare him. Still, Yuri felt as though the air were permeated with it, like a drop of blood unfurling into a pool of crystal clear water. 

Sitting among the trees, Yuri looked like a slender young man with long blonde hair, dressed in a simple white tunic with a silver cord for a belt. A thin garland of silver leaves encircled his head. Six long, iridescent wings extended from his back, each with an identical, intricate pattern of faintly glowing channels running through them. With a click of his fingers, his human-like body would vanish, and he would appear as a tiny, silvery blue light, just a few centimeters tall. If one looked closely, they could see the figure inside, as though it were standing in a cold flame. 

Fedya looked down, bashfully. “I really like the autumn,” he said. The leaves around them glowed orange, like flames, and across the hills the canopy of trees shifted from amber to brilliant gold. 

Yuri gave him a sly grin. “It’s not bad, is it? It just needs more ice.”

“So you can dance across the surface again?!” Fedya hopped up and down in Yuri’s palm. Then he turned his head again. “I never see the villagers dance like you do,” he said. “I only ever see them glide down the ice to get from one end of Berezhovoye to the other. Or to get to Vaselkovo farther down the river.”

For hundreds of years, the people in the nearby village had strapped blades to their feet to travel along the river that ran through a chain of neighboring towns. When Yuri was a child, his grandfather procured him a set of the blades. “Perhaps all I need to explain to you about human life is this,” his grandfather said. “Imagine wanting desperately to fly, and having no wings! So you must build your own instead.” Yuri attached the blades to his feet with magic, and made a game of seeing how fast and how high he could fly across the ice without his wings.

Suddenly a loud sobbing, a pitiful blubbering broke the stillness of the woods. A figure in a dark cloak appeared at the far edge, crying into the water. Yuri scowled at the horrible sound. Ridiculous. 

Then a face appeared in the lake: Lilia, its chief guardian. She rose to the surface, her gleaming skin like polished marble, yellow eyes glowing. Her long black hair swirled around her. “Yuri! What is that noise? What is disturbing my lake?”

“I don’t know!” Yuri said. “Don’t look at me.” The crow hopped about nervously. 

The wailing echoed through the trees. A more horrid sound than any Yuri had ever heard.

“Go and find out,” Lilia said, her voice a coarse whisper like lapping water. “And make it stop!”

“All right, fine, I’ll go.” Yuri would have been incensed at the request if Lilia’s panic hadn’t meant one thing: winter was near. When the surface of the lake froze, it would become Yuri’s domain. In their forest enclave, Yuri ruled all things made of ice, and Lilia guarded the water. Lilia would be busy tending to the creatures below, embracing them until the spring.

Yuri clicked his fingers, and his human body vanished. The brilliant light flew across the water. The crow followed. With a flash of light, Yuri stood up, looking human again. He folded his long wings down against his back, and they collapsed into a swirling, glowing pattern on his skin, like a luminous paint. The crow lighted on his shoulder and cocked his head, perplexed at what the two of them saw.

A young man with black hair cut into an awkward point knelt bellowing his sorrows into the water. He wore thick furs too heavy for this time of the year. From his belt hung a series of tiny bottles and jars, feathers and animal skulls. This was not an ordinary villager. 

Yuri nudged the man’s shoulder with his foot. “Hey. Who are you? What are you doing at my lake?”

The man looked up and glared. “Who am I? A being like you doesn’t know who I am?” His face was streaked with tears and snot. “I am the witch Kerebos! I have dwelled in these woods for centuries!”

“Well I’ve never heard of you,” Yuri said. “And you’re making a racket. Stop it or take it somewhere else.”

Kerebos scoffed. “You fairies are so proud,” he sneered. “You have no idea what it’s like, living among humans. You may know nature, but you never know love!”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Oh, what are you blathering on about now? Who in their right mind would want to live among humans?” 

More tears gushed forth from Kerebos’s face. “There are so many things,” he sobbed, “that one can only understand as a human! You stupid sprite, you have no idea...no idea what mysteries can only be known by them!” He beat his fist against the ground. 

Yuri crossed his arms. “And what have humans ever done for nature? They eat and sleep like animals do. They grow their plants and keep their animals penned up so they don’t have to hunt them. Nothing special about that. Humans are just animals in clothes--”

“Silence, you fool!” Kerebos cried out, before another round of tears. 

“Did a human make you like this?” Yuri asked. “Pathetic. If you love them so much, then go back to the village--”

This time Kerebos just screamed. A flock of birds burst out of a nearby tree in fear.

“Hey!” Yuri shouted. “You’re disturbing my woods, go away! No one wants you here. Go back to where you came from.”

“So proud,” Kerebos muttered. “Beings like you are so cold and so proud. You have never known the pain of love, or the horrible pain of losing love! Well,” he stood up, and Yuri saw that he was remarkably tall. “I’ll turn you into something colder and prouder for insulting me!” 

He drew a carved animal bone from his belt and pointed it at Yuri. Before Yuri could click his fingers and fly away, a jet of red smoke emerged from the tip of the bone and surrounded him. Yuri felt himself falling, collapsing into an unknown space. Fedya the crow lay stunned on the ground a short distance away.

Kerebos leaned over and picked up his creation: a porcelain doll in a white tunic where Yuri had been standing. Kerebos walked to the path at the edge of the woods, leading to the village and the estate.

Yuri’s body was frozen. No matter what he did, he couldn’t move. He could feel Kerebos’s cold, calloused hand around his torso. But his eyes remained fixed forward. 

“Kerebos!” Yuri wanted to scream, but he could only hear his own thoughts. “What did you do to me?”

But Kerebos could hear Yuri’s pleading. He answered without speaking. Instead, Yuri heard a sinister voice in his head.

“This is what you get for challenging me!” The voice said. “Some humans love things that are cold and proud. The only way for you to break your curse is to find true love. But you will never find it, you arrogant fool!”

Kerebos flung the doll onto the side of the path and stormed off.

Yuri lay still, his eyes fixed on the sky. Unable to move or scream, a deep terror washed over him. 

“Yuri? Yuri!” Fedya kept calling. “Where are you?”

 _Oh no, Fedya can’t hear me_ , Yuri thought. _No one knows where I’ve gone. If I can’t move and I can’t speak, what is going to happen to me? What will happen to the lake, to Lilia? What will Grandfather think?_

The evening sky turned pink and mauve, and Yuri began to sink into a deep despair. He imagined being picked up by one of the village children: a nightmare. But to be buried under the litter of leaves and forgotten would be even worse. 

_I can still feel, I can still think...I’m still alive...but Kerebos has turned my body into a prison..._

It was impossible to cry. All Yuri could do was wait for the night to turn dark and the stars to emerge.

☙

“My goodness, you’re worse than I am. Don’t you ever go home?” Christophe leaned against the door frame, looking into Otabek’s office. Long tables lined the walls, covered in all kinds of metal contraptions, scraps, and half-built rifles. Tall chests of long, thin drawers in the corners housed hundreds of sketches and plans. 

Otabek sat at his desk, poring over a schematic: a design for a new type of field rifle. He looked up and saw that the sky was turning dark, then he turned to the eccentric Swissman. “I lost track of time,” he said.

“I know. You seem to do it every day,” Christophe said. He was tall with a neatly trimmed beard. He wore an elegant velvet jacket festooned with gold knots and frogs. Always remarkably overdressed.

“You and I have the same affliction,” Otabek said with a faint grin. Christophe designed uniforms for the military and clothing for the city elite. Otabek worked as an engineer, designing weapons and tools.

“The muse has struck you, then?” Christophe asked.

“Perhaps not the one that visits you, but in a manner of speaking.” Otabek reached up to stretch, cracking joints in his neck and upper back.

“What’s that on your desk? I come spy on you all the time, I don’t know how I missed it.” Christophe leaned in closer. He walked in and picked up a small wooden box inlaid with mother of pearl. 

It hadn’t been there before. Otabek brought it in from home with the intention of taking it apart and learning how to make new ones. He watched Christophe open it. “It belonged to my sister,” he said. 

A tune that Christophe had never heard played from the box, a folk melody from the far region of the empire that Otabek came from. The low light from the lantern on the desk glinted off the small carved figure that rotated in the center of the box.

“Exquisite,” Christophe said. “I wondered why an austere man like you would keep such a sentimental thing.”

Otabek cracked a smile. “You seem to be quite a connoisseur of sentimental things.”

“Indeed. I am nothing if not that,” Christophe said. He placed the box back on the desk. 

Otabek looked at it. “My sister loved music,” he said, his voice distant. “Dancing, too. But mostly music. I think she would have been a great musician.”

“Is she a prodigy like you?” Christophe asked. “You never speak much about your family. Or say much anything about your life, for that matter. So mysterious.”

“I wouldn’t call myself a prodigy,” Otabek said. He reached for his stack of fresh drawings and lay them in a drawer.

“General Nikiforov does,” Christophe said, smiling.

“General Nikiforov has some very strange ideas,” Otabek said. He looked out the window again and noticed a few twinkling stars over the city skyline. Christophe was right that he rarely spoke about himself. “I would have called her a prodigy, though,” he said, contemplating the box. “I think if she had lived, she would have been.”

Christophe’s expression softened. He lay a hand on Otabek’s shoulder.

“What made you come by my office, anyway?” Otabek asked.

“Besides the fact that yours was the only lamp still lit in the whole building?” Christophe shrugged. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go to the club for dinner.”

On a typical night, Otabek would have gone by himself, eaten quietly while reading, and retreated home to his small apartment on the river. 

The two men put on their overcoats and walked out into the brisk night air. Rows of iron lanterns cast an orange glow everywhere. Gold light from the shops that were still open and the houses lining the street spilled out onto the sidewalk. A few dry leaves blew across their path. The dining club wasn’t far enough to justify taking a carriage, and it wasn’t yet too cold to walk home. 

“There’s someone the General wants you to meet,” Christophe said.

“What, tonight?” Otabek asked.

“No, later, at Countess Babicheva’s salon. He’s a historian, from Japan of all places.”

They pushed open the heavy wooden door of the club and sat down at a small table in the corner. The mahogany paneled room was lit by shining brass and crystal sconces. Only a few other diners sat scattered about. A soft murmur of conversation filled the air.

“I see the Countess likes to collect foreigners,” Otabek said. “Perhaps even more so than the General.”

Christophe laughed. “Yes, I suppose you and I weren’t enough to satisfy her.”

Otabek shook his head. “Why she brought me into her little entourage is still a mystery to me.”

“Well, you’re still such a mystery to everyone else,” Christophe said. He chose a bottle of wine from the list. The waiter gave a curt nod and reappeared with two glasses. “I guess you’re what they call a ‘tough nut to crack.’ You can talk circles around the best of them, if you talk at all. But you say so little about yourself. You have to know how rare that is in her world, full of self-obsessed louts.”

“Like the General?” Otabek picked up his glass.

“Oh no, I would never say such a thing,” Christophe said with a smirk. “More like the lackeys who follow him about, kissing up to him. Except for this ‘historian’ of his, apparently.”

“What’s his name?” Otabek asked.

“‘Kat-suki’ something,” Christophe said. “I can’t remember. I don’t speak Japanese. Oh, wait, yes, his given name was something Russian-sounding. Yuri, I think.”

“Finally someone from farther east than I am,” Otabek said. “Maybe I ought to meet him.”

Christophe laughed. “Ah, that’s the spirit. You know, you only ever really look happy out on the Countess’s property. Not at the parties, of course. I mean out with the horses. I wonder if perhaps life in Petersburg simply doesn’t suit you.”

“Parts of it, maybe.” Otabek considered the menu. “I’m sure there are a few people who would be quite glad to see me leave. You seem to take to it quite well, though.”

“Ah, but you’re doing it again. Don’t make everything about me. I grew up in the mountains, too, you know. I miss it sometimes.”

“I forgot about that.”

“Just because I fell in love with the city doesn’t mean I don’t still sometimes dream of going home.” Christophe took a long swill of wine and looked around the cozy dining room. “You like the countryside here?”

“Of course. Quite a lot,” Otabek said. 

“The next time you visit the Countess, stay for a few days. More than usual. Have her show you the full extent of the property. It’s striking. There’s a quaint little village nearby, too. It’s all so pleasant. Maybe you should take that new rifle you’ve been designing and do some hunting. Get out and enjoy the fresh air before it gets too cold.”

“I’m afraid that’s not quite what the gun is for,” Otabek said. 

He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until plates of food arrived. Otabek liked the provincial Russian style better than the dining club’s French fare, but he decided not to mention it, out of politeness to Christophe.

They spent the evening talking about the Countess. Otabek hadn’t meant to keep deflecting, each time Christophe caught him. He was simply curious as to what else Christophe knew about her. She was an outstanding piano player and gifted on the violin as well. It was hard for him not to imagine the kind of person his sister would have been. Otabek wasn’t surprised to be drawn to someone who reminded him of her. 

“Well, if I were in her shoes I’d be terribly bored,” Christophe said. “It’s no wonder she spends so much time on her music. Her father was such a hermit, and he had so much land. I don’t blame her for throwing party after party. I half expect her to sell the whole of it and move back to the city. Or to Italy, with that woman she’s so obsessed with.”

“The parties stay quite elevated, don’t they?” Otabek asked. “I mean in the sense that...well, everyone has plenty to drink. But they’re really more like concerts than--”

“Than the kind of evenings the General hosts?” Christophe tried not to raise his voice too much. “Oh, but you’re such a welcome addition at those,” he said with a wink. “You really ought to join us more often. The General would have invited you sooner if he’d know that kind of thing was your cup of tea.”

Otabek’s face flushed. “I think the Countess’s concerts are a little more my speed for the time being,” he said.

“Suit yourself,” Christophe said. 

General Nikiforov hosted all kinds of parties in his grandiose apartment. But his late-evening gatherings in the nearby bathhouse were reserved only for his inner circle of men and whichever favorites he plucked from among his underlings. On the few occasions Otabek had gone, he’d only spectated rather than partaken in the orgy. The General seemed to think nothing of his proclivities, and fancied himself as one of the generals of antiquity. But Otabek was still rather haunted by the fact that in his twenty two years of life, he had rarely imagined any women in such a situation with him. The images he’d seen through the steam of the banya stayed with him long after the parties were over. 

For a moment Otabek regretted joining Christophe for dinner. He was a hopeless gossip, more so than the chatty seamstresses who worked for him in his studio, directly above Otabek’s workshop in the complex of military offices off the main square. But Christophe seemed to genuinely like people, not just endless twittering drama. Like the Countess, he took great pleasure in getting to know what was underneath the surface. Otabek was quick to turn the conversation back to her.

“She’ll put off getting married as long as she can,” Christophe said. “Of course, she needs the rumors to throw her detractors off her scent. It’s very shrewd of her to collect fine young men who she knows have no interest in courting her.” 

Otabek felt strangely pierced by Christophe’s gaze. 

Christophe smiled wider. “It keeps everyone’s eyes off all the fine young women she surrounds herself with.”

“So she’s using me as a decoy after all,” Otabek said. “To look like she’s having an affair.”

“Oh no, she’s using you for far more than that!” Christophe said. “Everyone needs friends, Otabek! If you happen to suit some other purpose, well, all the better. Besides,” he said, reaching for a slice of bread from a silver basket, “I’m sure she’d love to find someone who suits you.”

Otabek shook his head. 

“Surely there must be someone you like,” Christophe said. “It’s been almost two years since you arrived, hasn’t it?”

Otabek sometimes spotted a face in a crowd that caught his attention, or a young solider in the yard of the sprawling military complex. He remembered a young officer who was stationed in his village, when he had sold his first design and caught the attention of the capital. A thin man with a pale face and dust colored hair. He spoke with absolute resoluteness, an unwavering quality that could silence a room of drunk soldiers without wasting a single breath. 

“Why do I have a feeling that if you were interested in someone, you’d do a brilliant job of hiding it?” Christophe asked.

Otabek smiled in spite of himself and poured himself another glass of wine.


	2. Chapter 2

Two years before, Otabek arrived in Saint Petersburg with a single satchel and a heavy portfolio of schematic drawings. The farther he traveled from his hometown of Verniy, the more harshly he felt the scathing gazes that followed him. He expected to feel like a foreigner, but having never traveled far from the Almatinsky River, he hadn’t fully understood the coldness it would bring.

“What is your purpose here?” The secretary at the front office of the military academy asked, peering down at him through a pair of tiny glasses.

“I have an appointment with Yakov Feltsman,” Otabek said.

“You do?”

“Yes, a letter was sent before my arrival.”

The man begrudgingly looked through a long ledger of appointments. “And what is your name?”

“Altin--”

“Yes, yes, I see you. Very well. Go on in.”

A stern young man in a uniform who couldn’t have been more than seventeen opened an iron gate that led into the main corridor. Otabek’s footsteps echoed far too loudly for his liking across the checkered tile floor. He sensed that this would happen to him many times: he would have nothing to be ashamed of, and yet shame would wrap its dark tendrils around him anyway. 

He spotted the door with Felstman’s engraved plaque and knocked three times.

“Enter,” said the voice within.

Otabek took a deep breath and opened the door. Yakov sat at a long, wooden desk piled high with papers. He smoked his pipe and looked over a list of names. “And you are?”

“Otabek Altin.”

Yakov frowned. “Your name is what? What heathen language is that in?” He turned back to his list.

Otabek fought to hide his growing panic. “There was a letter sent...from Matvei Rivken--”

“Rivken I know quite well, but he never said anything about sending me an ‘Altin.’”

“But the guard let me in--”

“Well obviously,” Yakov said. “But clearly by some error. And what brings you here?”

“I’m supposed to sit for the entrance exam on Monday,” Otabek said. “For the corps of engineers.”

“Are you now?” Yakov laughed. “And on what basis?”

“I was Rivken’s apprentice for eight years,” Otabek said.

“And? Did you shine his shoes, or did he teach you anything? Why should I bother to give you a place in my exam?”

Otabek felt a swell of anger. He forced himself to stay calm. “Do you know of the Letochka pistol?” 

“Do I--do I have eyes? Of course I know about it, I bought one for my wife to carry in her purse. I can only pray she doesn’t one day use it on me,” Yakov said. It was a famously lightweight gun, easily concealed, designed for civilian use. 

“I helped Rivken design it,” Otabek said.

“Really, now? And why should I believe you?”

“Well, I have the schematics right here…” He began to unlatch the portfolio case.

“I don’t want to see your pitiful sheet of paper--”

“You just asked me what Rivken taught me!” Otabek said, much louder than he intended.

“That I did. Very well. Let’s have it.”

Otabek laid out the parchment. “This is what I proposed,” he said. He explained how he had scaled down the design while keeping the weapon compatible with standard ammunition. He pulled another sheet from his case, showing a rejected design for the trigger. On a side panel were sample designs to be engraved into the metal. Only one variation had been made. Rivken’s seal was stamped in the bottom corner, with Otabek’s slightly smaller next to it. 

“Otabek,” Yakov said with a sigh, “I know who you are. Matvei wrote me and told me to look out for you.”

Otabek took a step back, careful to control his face.

“In fact, that was not the first time he wrote to tell me about you,” Yakov said. He opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a tiny mechanical toy horse, whose legs contained a delicate complex of springs and mimicked a real horse’s stride. Yakov wound it up and let it walk across the one clear stretch of the table. 

Otabek caught it before it fell to the floor. The toy horse was one of the first designs he’d ever completed by himself. He expected to pay for his room and board with money from the patent, which Matvei had invested for him. 

“He sent me this five years ago,” Yakov said. He crossed his arms with a satisfied look on his face. “He told me his apprentice turned out to be a natural talent. Did you know I use this horse to teach my students?”

Otabek was still confused and wary.

“I tell them to recreate it, and few of them can. Not without taking it apart first, and not after many, many failed attempts. The movement of the legs is too complex for them at first.”

The shape and weight of the toy was so familiar in his hand. Otabek set it back on the desk and gathered up his drawings. 

“Otabek, you must forgive me for being so brash with you,” Yakov said, taking up his pipe again. “Matvei warned me you were a senstive child. He wrote about you as if you were his own son, he was quite proud in his letters. You should know that.” Yakov sat back down in his chair and puffed out a cloud of smoke. “But Saint Petersburg is a pit of vipers. Foreigners here who aren’t from the aristocracy of their country are tolerated, but rarely welcome, even after they achieve some acclaim. I would know,” he said with a little side nod. “In any case, my students are quite ruthless, and happy to see each other fail.”

Otabek nodded, embarassed, but relieved to have passed Yakov’s test.

“You have a great talent,” Yakov said. “By all means, you must sit for the exam. But you will need that talent. I’m afraid you may be tested far more harshly than this if you stay here.”

“I understand,” Otabek said. 

“On the other hand,” Yakov said, “there are a few eccentric minds who value talent above all status. You may be surprised to see who you curry favor with. After all, we are here to win wars, not just impress each other at dinner parties.”

Otabek sensed Yakov had fought hard to climb up the ranks. He couldn’t be sure if Yakov was referring specifically to General Nikiforov when he mentioned eccentrics, but when Otabek met the smiling man covered in medals who pranced about like a happy child, Yakov’s words clicked into place like the springs in the horse’s legs. 

☙

Yuri found the light of the stars comforting. Never before had he needed them so much. 

A soft wind blew across the path, and Yuri felt something stir. He sat up instinctively. 

_Wait..._ he thought. _I can sit up?_

Yuri looked at his hands and saw right through them. He saw the doll lying on the path, a small shining object in the moonlight. Perhaps someone would pick it up. He dreaded to think of who it would be. 

Yuri stood up, a faint ghost. He sometimes left his body at night, in dreams; a skill that Lilia had taught him when he was very young. Yuri rarely bothered to travel far from the lake; at least, not during his waking hours. At night, when he traveled in dreams, he sometimes ventured off with Lilia, to help her attend to her duties, or to learn bits of magic from her. Yuri could have melted with relief at being able to move, even if it was only his astral body and not the physical doll. He knelt down by the doll and took a closer look at it. 

_My wings...where did they go?_ He wondered. _Kerebos took my wings away?_ The figure looked like a human boy, but paler, with large, sparkling eyes. It wore the same tunic and crown. _I guess I must have looked like this once when I was younger._ Yuri didn’t often look at his reflection, even with the mirror-like quality of the lake.

 _But this is terrible_ , Yuri thought. _I have to get my normal body back. Maybe Lilia can help me…_

Yuri’s ghost walked to the edge of the lake. He let his astral body’s wings unfurl at full length behind him. Lilia’s physical body would be deep under water, but perhaps her astral body would be somewhere he could reach. Yuri saw the gleaming silver thread that connected her spirit to the dark figure submerged below. Silver threads could stretch into infinite realms.

“Lilia!” He called out, without making a sound. “Lilia! I need your help!”

“Lilia!”

Nothing. Perhaps she was simply far away. Or perhaps it was worse, and she couldn’t hear him at all. 

_I know, I’ll try Grandfather_ , Yuri thought. _He won’t want to be woken up, but it’s better than him thinking I ran away!_

“Grandpa!” Yuri yelled silently. “Grandpa, can you hear me?”

But nothing stirred. 

Yuri was born from the sky. He had no true parents. But the wood gnome who cared for the trees in the grove around the lake was happy to take in the new little elemental. It was good for nature spirits to stick together, he thought, and know each other’s ways. After all, it was all their forest. As a human, Yuri’s adopted grandfather looked like a small old man with a heavy beard and a shaggy brown coat.

But the gnome remained fast asleep in the hollow of a tree when Yuri approached him.

“Grandpa! Grandpa, please, you have to help me!”

No silver thread led away from the old gnome’s body. He wasn’t traveling that night, instead watching over the tree that was battling an unfortunate blight. 

“Please!” Yuri screamed. “Can anyone hear me? Anyone? Fedya?” 

The little crow opened one eye, then tucked his head back under his wing to go back to sleep.

_Oh, no. Please, no, don’t tell me this is part of the curse, too. I might as well be dead!_

_Kerebos...that horrible bastard! I have to speak to him,_ Yuri thought _. Surely he, out of everyone, can hear me!_

The spirit silently clicked his fingers and a faint light drifted down the path, farther from the lake, toward the village. He came across what at first looked like a giant mound of moss. Then he realized it was a cottage. He clicked his fingers again and stood in front of it. The fire had been put out for the night. Inside the cottage lay the body of a man sleeping, but outside of it…on the other end of the silver thread...

A creature with glowing green eyes raised its head above the roof of the cottage. “What are you doing here?” It growled at Yuri.

 _So this is Kerebos_ , Yuri realized. Not a sobbing man, but a massive black dragon with scales like gleaming obsidian.

“You…” Yuri said, stunned at the huge astral body loosely connected to the man in the hut. “You made yourself into a human?”

“Yes,” the dragon said, tendrils of spirit-smoke curling up from its nostrils. “And I’ll make you into something worse than what you are if you don’t go away!”

Yuri took a few paces back, then stood his ground. “Hey, wait! It’s not fair! You have to tell me how to break this curse!”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Kerebos said. “No one told me how to live. You figure it out. Now go, or I’ll wake up. I’ll find your physical body and I’ll smash the thing to pieces!”

Yuri clicked his fingers and flew off toward the lake. _How unbelievably strange_ , he thought. _A monster who wanted to become human! Dragons haven’t been seen in this part of the world for centuries,_ Yuri thought. _Even I thought they were all dead. No wonder I’d never heard of him. He’s been in hiding!_

The apparition walked across the surface of the water, lost in contemplation. _Still, it’s not fair! Why should I suffer just because_ he _failed? Kerebos, you worthless bastard freak!_

The water reflected the moon and stars, but Yuri had no reflection. Lilia remained deep under the surface, and the crows were all asleep in the trees. Was there any point in calling them again? 

Yuri saw a silvery body pass through the trees, with a tiny thread emerging from its back: a fox was dreaming of hunting. A faint whisp passed overhead: a bird dreaming of flight.

 _No, there’s no need to visit anyone else’s dreams_ , Yuri thought. _If I do…_

He rose up into the sky and looked into the distance. A few small lights shone through the dark trees, just a handful of houses in the nearby village whose occupants hadn’t yet gone to sleep. 

_Oh no. Please, not this._

_No one can help me but the humans_ , he realized. _Kerebos, you giant maggot! What a pain!_


	3. Chapter 3

In the morning, Yuri was bound to his body again. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t leave it. He’d have to wait until nightfall. Yuri heard two sets of soft footsteps some distance away. Two women in long wool coats wrapped in colorful shawls meandered down the path. 

“Her brother is such an insufferable bore,” said one of them. She wore her bright red hair pinned up in a knot. The gold buttons on her coat shone in the morning light. “I’m sure some great tragedy must have befallen him as a child. I can think of no other reason why a man should be so completely stripped of a personality like that.”

The other woman laughed, nearly snorting. She was dressed more simply, and let her long, dark, wavy hair flow freely behind her. “If you tell that to Sara, it will make her hate you, you know that,” she said.

“No, she’ll only pretend to hate me. First she’ll agree, and then she’ll do what decorum requires and pretend to be shocked. I’m sure she thinks it, too.”

The Count Babichev’s unexpected death left his only daughter, Lyudmila Sergeevna, in charge of his estate. She walked through the property with a blend of nostalgia and grief, accompanied by her childhood friend, Anna Petrovna, the daughter of the village physician in nearby Berezhovoye. Memories of running amok through the woods as a child with Anya flowed through her mind. 

“What happened to that doctor you were seeing?” Mila asked.

Anya’s posture stiffened. “I wish he’d been as boring as Lord Crispino, then at least I could have dispensed with him easily,” she said. “He’s a strange, neurotic man. I don’t want to see him again. He claimed to be from Novgorod but he seemed to know nothing about the town at all. I think he’s some kind of lying charlatan.”

Mila spotted the doll at the side of the path. Yuri watched the two women standing over him, blocking out the sun. Mila reached down to pick it up.

“How strange,” Mila said.

_ Put me down, you hag! _ Yuri thought, wishing he could scream. At least her grip was delicate.

“Someone must have dropped this, but who?” Mila asked. “I haven’t seen any carriages go by in quite a while.”

Anya stepped back, skeptical. “I think you should put it back. I don’t like the look of it.”

“But doesn’t it look like your little Vika?” Mila asked, referring to a blonde doll that belonged to Anya as a child. “Although I suppose this one is a boy. Also strange.”

Anya still looked worried. “If someone dropped it, it should be broken,” she said. “Isn’t it porcelain?”

“It looks like it.” Mila turned the doll over and noticed and embossed pattern on its back, in the shape of a snowflake. She ran her thumb over it. 

_ My wings! _ Yuri thought.  _ So they still are there! _ He couldn’t feel the design until Mila touched it. 

“It’s so detailed,” Mila said. “I’ve never seen one quite like this.”

“Then where do you think it could have come from?” Anya asked. “If someone brought it to you as a gift, surely it would have been locked in a case, not thrown out of a carriage.”

“You think it was put here on purpose?” Mila asked. Anya said nothing, and Mila laughed. “What, do you think it has some kind of curse on it or something? Don’t be superstitious, Anya!”

“I don’t know what it is, I just get a creepy feeling from looking at it, don’t you?” 

Mila held the doll up to face Anya. “Creepy? This little fellow? What, you don’t find him charming?”

“No, he reminds me of my obnoxious little nephew.” 

Mila laughed. She carried the doll in the crook of her arm and kept walking. “Oh, Anya, you’re too high-strung. Anyways, I’m taking it with me for now. I’ll put it in my collection and if anyone asks, I’ll give it back.”

_ Collection? _ Yuri thought. He supposed being carried off by an adult was better than being at the mercy of the grubby hands of the village children. Still, the farther the women walked from the lake, the more anxious Yuri became, begging for nightfall.

☙

Mila’s mother never liked the color green until Mila was born. When she saw how brilliant it made her daughter look, it became her favorite. She had a salon in the manor house painted emerald green, with gold rococo details, when Mila was a child. Mila always felt that something of her mother remained in that room. 

In one corner stood a grand piano and a host of other instruments from far-flung corners of the world. One wall displayed her collection of lutes, guitars, and mandolins. Though sometimes conversation pieces, Mila challenged her guests to play them. The results were often comical, but just as often brilliant. Mila herself spent hours at the piano, wading through stacks of sheet music, sometimes dreaming, jotting down compositions of her own. 

On the opposite side of the room stood a glass case filled with colorful dolls. All of them were tiny women and girls in exquisite costumes, except for Yuri, conspicuously plain. Mila sat him on a high shelf that allowed him a full view of the salon. 

_ How bizarre, to make tiny copies of yourself _ , Yuri thought about the dolls.  _ Or what are they? Miniature, imaginary friends? _ It was one thing to see children playing with them, but why would an adult woman keep them?  _ Are they worth that much?  _

Yuri braced himself for a despairing day of boredom. What a horror to be inside, away from the trees, the sky! The objects in the house, the walls, and the furniture gave off a strange and unfamiliar feeling. 

Mila sat down at the piano and began to play. Yuri had never heard much human music before. Sometimes he would hear the villagers sing, especially working in the nearby fields. But it was nothing complex, just simple hymns or folk songs. Not unpleasant, but not invited, either. 

Mila played a melody, then stopped. She played it again, this time with a variation. Then again, with another change. Then she took a quill and a blank sheet of paper and began to write down the notes.

_ Did she just make that up? _ Yuri wondered. He listened as she played her composition over and over, refining it. A realization crept up on Yuri. The music had a shape. Just as the snowflakes he tended had a precise and careful geometry, the music also followed patterns and rules. Proportions gave it structure. 

All afternoon, Mila played various pieces, sometimes stopping to come back and add to her own. Being trapped in the doll’s stiff body was still miserable. But the sound brought with it colors and impressions. All around Mila, Yuri saw colors, patterns, and shapes, and yet Mila herself didn’t seem to notice them. One piece sounded like the roots of a tree to Yuri. Another like the surface of the lake. One, his favorite, had clusters of high, sparkly notes that sounded like falling snow.  _ Yes, that one, that one’s really good! Play that one again! _

The humans knew something about geometry and sound.  _ Fascinating. _

“Madame? Excuse me for interrupting,” A butler poked his head through the door. “Would you come and look at the provisions for the banquet tomorrow?” 

“Of course,” she said. The silence in the room that followed still carried with it traces of the music from before. Yuri noticed the other instruments on the walls. If the piano created such marvelous shapes, then what, Yuri wondered, could these other contraptions do?

☙

Yuri watched the red sunset through the tall windows of the salon. The silhouettes of the trees turned black against the flaming sky. Once darkness had fallen, Yuri peeled his astral body out of the shell of the doll like a butterfly leaving its cocoon. 

_ Finally, I can move! _

The house was silent; only a gentle wind through the trees outside made any sound. Yuri strode slowly through the huge, alien manor. He had slept outside every night of his life, never in need of any shelter so elaborate as this. Everything felt strange. In the long hallway on the ground floor, moonlight glinted off an enormous mirror in a frame made of convoluted carved wooden swirls. 

_ What a strange thing to do to a tree _ , Yuri thought, considering the wood. He still had no reflection. Only an astral object could properly show him his astral body, and to find one, he’d have to enter into a dream realm, or perhaps wander into someone else’s dream. Lilia gave him staunch warnings against such intrusive wanderings. It wasn’t always dangerous, but it was nearly always rude.

“Quite a lot happens in sleep,” she told him, her voice a dark, watery whisper. “Most humans and animals don’t remember their nightly journeys. But some do. And some navigate them with great precision. Some even have great, important tasks that they must carry out in sleep, whether they know it in their waking life or not. But Yuri,” she said, “the rules of dream worlds are quite different from the rules of nature on Earth. In the beginning it can be terrifying. Time and distance are not the same. Memory and emotion are not the same. It is a new world. And I will only teach you how to navigate it if you prove to me that you are dedicated to doing it right.”

“I want to learn,” Yuri said. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

And so she led him on many wanderings over the course of his twenty years on Earth.

_Only the humans can help me. Kerebos, you nasty buggar._ _Once all this is over, I’ll encase you in ice! I’ll turn you into an igloo!_ Yuri had visited an arctic settlement once, in a dream. His opinon of humans was generally low, but the ice dwellers he found noble.

The hallway opened up into an opulent foyer with a grand, stone staircase. A glimmering chandelier hung from the highest point of the ceiling, its candles all extinguished. A painting of a red-haired woman in a black velvet dress with a lace fan hung above a long, low console table with a marbe top, a piece of furniture whose use completely evaded Yuri. He clicked his astral fingers and flew up to the second floor. He saw a faint light coming from underneath one of the doors. Yuri peeked through the keyhole, and flew inside.

Mila sat at her writing desk, a short distance from the tall four-post bed whose curtains were still drawn. She wore a long blue night gown and scratched at the page by the light of a single candle. Her fire had gone out, and there was a chill in the room that Yuri noticed.  _ Isn’t she cold? What can she possibly be so distracted by that she doesn’t even notice? _

Yuri looked at the letter that was gradually emerging from the nib of her pen, but the words made no sense. His grandfather knew human writing, but Yuri never anticipated needing to learn. He recognized a few letters from the signs above the shops in Berezhovoye. 

_ Well, if she ever decides to go to sleep, maybe she’ll have a dream about it.  _ Yuri clicked his fingers again and stood up. Icons in gold frames hung in each corner, a busy silvery damask fabric covered the walls.

“Mila, it’s late,” Yuri said, voiceless. He stood behind her. “Come on you hag, go to sleep already!” 

She looked up from her letter and glanced around the room. “Strange,” she said to herself. She took her shawl off the back of her chair and continued writing. 

_ Wait a second, did she notice me? _ He sat down cross legged on the desk in front of her. “Hey! Listen to me, hag!” Yuri shouted. She blinked a few times, then resumed her letter. “Mila! Hey, Countess! Can’t whatever you’re doing wait until the morning? It’s not good for a human to be awake late at night! Get some sleep already, all right?”

She lay her pen on a small gold tray and rubbed her eyes. Yuri clenched his astral fists with excitement. “That’s it!”

She reached for another sheet of paper and Yuri’s face fell. He tried to snatch it from her hand, but his hand simply passed straight through hers. 

“All right, fine! Suit yourself, hag! I’ll try someone else.” 

Yuri walked through the closed door and down the second floor corridor. He noticed a faint, glimmering figure walking away from him. Her silhouette suggested the human she belonged to had long, dark, wavy hair. 

“Anya!” Yuri called.

The figure froze, then turned to him, afraid. “How did you know my name?”

“You and the Countess picked me up!” Yuri said, irritated.

Anya’s astral eyes widened. “I knew it! I knew there was something wrong with you. I knew you were under some kind of curse. I should have Mila get rid of you at once!” And the figure began to soar down the corridor along the thread to her physical body, lying in another locked bedroom.

“No, wait!” Yuri shouted. “Hang on...there’s something wrong with you, too.” 

Anya stopped and looked at him. Her projection wore a long black gown with no sleeves. 

“I’ve seen very few humans who can leave their body at will like you can,” Yuri said. “The only ones I’ve ever seen were witches or healers. Your friends...do they know you’re a witch?”

“If you even so much as plant the suggestion in their dreams, I’ll destroy your body!” Anya said.

“You’re not the first person to threaten me like that. Are all witches so violent?” Yuri asked.

Anya stood still. “What do you mean, someone else threatened you?” 

“The witch that did this to me! He’s called Kerebos, he’s a dragon--”

“Kerebos!” Anya gasped. Even for a spectre, Anya looked pale. 

“You know about him?”

“If you’ve been touched by Kerebos, I want nothing to do with you, do you understand? Kerebos is evil! Stay far away from me!”

“Anya, wait! Please, you have to help me!” Yuri cried out.

“Even if I wanted to, I can’t. If you come near the Countess or anyone else in her household, I will make sure she gets rid of you!” Anya vanished down the hall without saying anything more. 

_ Kerebos is evil? No, you’re evil! _ Yuri thought.  _ You won’t even  _ try _ to help me? A human who can leave her body on purpose, and you won’t do anything at all? _

Yuri walked out into the garden. _What is Anya doing out of her body, anyway?_ _Why roam the grounds like that_?

Yuri looked down and found himself surrounded by all kinds of medicinal herbs, the ones the villagers grew for themselves in their small garden plots or came to forage in the forest. A robust collection, with every kind Yuri had ever seen. He knelt by the plants and ran his hand over them. They had a special sparkle to them: someone had been taking vigilant care of them. Not just elementals either, but a human. 

At the far edge of the garden plot, Yuri noticed two gnomes, carefully inventorying the leaves. They looked like tiny women in simple linen dresses. There was no use trying to talk to them, he realized. They couldn’t see or hear him. Yuri thought of the other humans in the household. The butlers, the maids, the cooks, the coachman. But could any of them help him? Unless they were secretly folk healers, he doubted it. He sat on the stone step leading into the garden and watched the gnomes work. One of them hoisted up a huge grub from the soil, patted it gently on the head, and moved it to another corner of the plot. 

_ This is what I should be doing for my trees before winter comes _ , Yuri thought bitterly.  _ But there’s so little I can do as just a ghost. _

Astral tears looked like liquid light. They poured down his face, crying no one could hear. Yuri was so distracted by his own misery that he didn’t notice that another creature had joined him. When he looked up, a voluminously fluffy white cat was sitting next to him.

“Who are you?” Yuri asked. 

The cat looked at him, but said nothing. Not all animals talked the way Fedya did. Some simply spoke with feelings. 

“Wait, really? You can see me?”

The cat squinted his eyes serenely. 

“You’re called Potya?” The shape of the name formed in Yuri’s mind. “Well, Potya, if you have any brilliant ideas about how I can get out of this mess, don’t hestitate to tell me.”

The cat shut his eyes and purred. In Yuri’s mind’s eye, an image of the sleeping village formed,

“Well, sure, there’s got to be a witch around somewhere who knows what she’s doing,” Yuri said. 

The cat continued to purr. Yuri saw an image of the salon, filled with people in unusual, fancy clothes. But he was frustrated. What could city people possibly know about magic?

Yuri stretched out on the stair and gazed up at the sky, immersed in despair that felt darker than night. 


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Mila’s house was a flurry of activity, the butlers and maids scurrying around to make everything perfect.

 _My God_ , Yuri thought. _Here I thought I would be bored to death, now I can barely get a moment’s peace._

He sat on his shelf in the glass case. The cat crept into the room and looked up at him with a cocked head. Mila scooped up the cat and snuggled him. “What’s the matter, Potya?” The cat wriggled in her arms. “Do you see a ghost in the doll case?”

Anya rolled her eyes and groaned in the far corner of the room, arranging flowers into vases. 

Mila kissed the top of the cat’s head and released him. “Now you work extra hard today, Potya!” She pointed to the cat. “If there’s a single rat in this house when the General gets here, it’s going to be your fault!” 

The cat yawned and licked his paw.

 _I like this creature_ , Yuri thought. 

Whatever was going to happen that evening, it was making tremendous noise in the kitchen behind the salon. Yuri had no respite from the sound of chopping, clanging pots and pans, and the cooks gossiping and talking to themselves. He’d never missed the stillness of the forest so much. But even when the forest was quiet, it wasn’t truly still. From a great distance, Yuri could hear animals walking across the forest floor. On a good day, he could hear the leaves as they worked hard to grow.

At least he could see the trees outside the window. He called out to them fruitlessly. The flowers in the vases reminded him of himself. Prisoners.

 _They work so hard to grow and be beautiful, and now they’re going to die, precisely for that reason. I can already feel the life draining from them._ He gazed the arrangement sitting on top of the piano. The flowers still beamed proudly. _I don’t understand you flowers sometimes! How can you be content with dying? Is being seen and loved by the humans really that important to you? Maybe it’s for the best I’m not a gnome._

It wasn’t just the strange sounds that bothered Yuri. With the Countess and Anya gone, finished preparing for the evening to come, it felt lonely, in a way that had never troubled Yuri before. _Well, it’s not like I want_ them _around, anyway. In the forest you’re never really alone. There’s always some ants that’ll let you march with them, or a rabbit looking for a burrow. Even the birds that don’t talk will play you a little concert if they think you’re having a bad day._ But Yuri wondered… _No, there’s no way I miss those old hags. I just don’t like being in this strange place, that’s all._

The minutes and hours passed slowly. Yuri never talked to himself so much. In the forest, his mind was usually quiet. If anything, he thought more like the cat, in washes of images, as the trees stoically confessed their ailments and he and his grandfather knew right away what to do. No need to narrate. But Yuri found he couldn’t stop. _Kerebos, this is part of your curse too, isn’t it?_

Then Yuri heard voices. First, the Countess. “Please, you’re not imposing at all, I wouldn’t invite people out here if I didn’t love having them around,” she said. She stood just out of his field of vision, in the dining room that opened up into to the salon. “Besides, Orion needs all the attention and exercise he can get. I’ve never seen such a wild, feisty pony in my life! I can barely believe my sweet Willow gave birth to him. They’re like night and day.”

“Well I don’t know why he seems to like me, but I’ve very much been looking forward to riding him again,” a man said. 

Yuri liked the sound of the man’s voice. He’d never been especially partial to a voice before. He tried to picture the person it belonged to, but struggled to conjure an image that felt correct.

“I bet he knows it’s in your blood,” Mila said. “You come from a long line of horsemen, don’t you?”

“Probably. I didn’t know my parents well. But horses are certainly revered where I come from. I’ve always liked them, ever since I was a little child.”

 _But where does he come from?_ Yuri wondered. He spoke fluent Russian, but there was something slightly unusual about his speech that Yuri liked but couldn’t put his finger on. 

“I want to see how Orion reacts when he sees you,” Mila said. “Did you know he almost threw Lord Crispino off his back just the other day?”

The man laughed. “Forgive me,” he said.

“Forgiven.” Yuri could easily picture Mila’s smile. “It gave me a real scare, though. We’d taken the horses out to a little lake I haven’t shown you yet; I gave Sara my Willow, and I took Perseus. Anyways, Orion bolted, and I swear to you, my life flashed before my eyes, I thought it was the end for Crispino and myself as well, by extension.”

“So they’re still coming to visit you often?” the man asked.

“Right now the limiting factor is how long I can bear to be around Crispino. His sister is angel, but he never lets her out of his sight. It’s quite tiresome. I don’t understand why he doesn’t let her stay out here on her own, it’s not like I’m a wolf trying to kill her and eat her.”

“I’ve never been especially fond of him myself,” the man said.

“You always put things so gently,” Mila said.

“I make guns for a living, I suppose some part of me has to gentle.”

Mila chuckled. “Here, I want to show you something,” she said. “Something strange happened to me yesterday. I was out walking with Anya and I found a most unusual object.” 

Yuri felt a surge of fear as Mila approached the doll case. She opened the little glass door, took Yuri out, and handed him to her companion. 

The man examined Yuri. He looked young, but much of his short, black hair was already beginning to turn gray. He looked as though he’d been spending time in the sun, with a warmth to his skin that reminded Yuri of amber. His dark eyes were long and slightly narrow, and he had a somewhat hard mouth. 

Yuri found him beautiful. Most human faces, he found quite forgettable. Not this one. 

“He’s beautiful, but I don’t see what’s unusual about him,” the man said. 

“He was just lying there on the side of the path. We have no idea where he came from. Anya is convinced he’s evil, that no one would leave such a thing outside unless he were some instrument of bad luck.”

The man continued to study the doll. “If he were really evil, wouldn’t they have just broken him, or buried him? Perhaps buried him and then gone to retrieve him later? All I can think is some child must have thrown him from a carriage. But then...who would give such a thing to a child? This porcelain is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. And this…” the man looked at the garland around the doll’s hair. “Mila, I think this is real silver in the leaves here.” the man leaned in closer. As horrible as it was to be trapped in the doll, Yuri realized he liked the warmth and the pressure of the man’s hand. “The eyes look to be some kind of stone covered in resin. I don’t think this is glass. It’s remarkable.” Then he turned the doll over and noticed the pattern embossed on Yuri’s back. “Oh. He has fairy wings.”

“What do you mean?” Mila asked.

The man showed her the pattern. “This design on his back. They say that when fairies appear human, their wings sometimes disappear. They don’t vanish entirely, but they look like painting on the skin, or a tattoo.”

 _That’s an alarming amount for a human to know about fairies_ , Yuri thought; nervous, but still captivated by the unusually handsome man. 

“Otabek, how do you know about this?”

“My sister used to love fairy stories,” he said. “There was a book I used to read to her from when we were little, and it had an engraving in it she loved of a woman who had all these long spirals and arabesques drawn down her back. I assume it must be the same thing for this little fellow.”

“I think you’re right. At first I just thought it was a snowflake,” Mila said. 

“It certainly looks like it. I think our friend here would be quite cold in the snow, though, in just a tunic,” Otabek said.

 _Aha! So you_ don’t _know everything there is to know about fairies. But then...well, you knew about burying a cursed object to cleanse it, that’s not nothing. You come from far away...what_ do _you know?_

“I’ve been collecting dolls all my life, and I’ve never seen one constructed like this,” Mila said. 

“You have the finest collection of them that I’ve ever seen,” Otabek said.

Mila looked pensive. Otabek was still holding the fairy doll. Yuri wasn’t sure why the man hadn’t yet put him back.

“I suppose all children have wild imaginations, don’t they?” Mila said. “Especially little girls. We love fantasy, magic. Your sister loved fairies, and I loved dolls.” She looked into the case. “I always wanted to be around them when I was little, I took them with me everywhere. As I got older I realized it’s because I always want to be around beautiful women. They enchant me.” She glanced back at Otabek. “Now I collect people instead. I feel so callous saying it. I gather up the most interesting people I can find and surround myself with them.” 

She sat down on a long sofa across from the shelf. Otabek put the doll back and joined her. Now Yuri could see him properly. He wasn’t exceptionally tall, or dressed in a fancy way. He had broad shoulders and wore riding boots and a black wool coat with silver buttons. He sat with a reserved, slightly contracted posture, giving the Countess plenty of space on the couch.

“I guess I should be honored, then,” he said.

“You should!” Mila said. “I don’t like to spend my time with just anyone. This place used to be filled with people all the time before my mother died,” she said. “And I miss it bitterly, so now I have to fill it back up! But I’m afraid I’m still the same selfish child I always was. Back then, I used to drag my parents to the toy shop in the city and scream until I got the doll I wanted. These days I’m much more subtle,” she said with a grin. “But the principle remains. Unfortunately, the one I’d like to keep forever is attached to Lord Crispino.” Her smile disappeared.

“I wish I knew what to tell you,” Otabek said. “He’s such a strange and difficult man. I wish he could see how much happier Sara is without him. And with you.”

“I’m going to keep wishing,” Mila said.

“Luckily Sara more than makes up for his presence. In any case, I think you’ve curated your company very well.” He looked at Yuri on the shelf, with a kind of thoughtful, distant gaze. 

“What’s the matter?” Mila asked after a moment. 

“He looks out of place, doesn’t he?” Otabek said. “Under-dressed for the party.”

“True,” Mila said. “But I don’t know where else to put him.” She tilted her head. “I guess that happens if you turn up uninvited, unexpectedly. Every now and then I have a dream where I show up to something and I’m not dressed properly. Or I’m not dressed at all.” She smirked. 

Otabek sat back a little deeper into the couch. “It makes me think of myself in Saint Petersburg,” he said.

Mila frowned. “What, is it because you aren’t a noble? They don’t give out titles for being interesting, you know. Or intelligent.”

Otabek smiled and looked at the floor. 

“Or perhaps it’s something else?”

Otabek gave her an uneasy glance.

“You know the General whined to me the other day about how you didn’t come to his last couple of late-night gatherings?” Mila said.

Otabek sank his face into his hand. 

“He was very drunk at the time, and I took him by the shoulders and said, ‘Vitya, look, just because a man likes horses doesn’t mean every single day needs to be a steeplechase. Some people prefer discretion. And privacy.’ And then he walked off like a puppy with his tail between his legs.”

Otabek bit his lip and nodded. “I think you understand me well.”

Mila shrugged. “If I’m interested in someone, I’d much prefer to be alone with her. Anyways, the General makes the mistake of assuming that if you are a little bit like him, you are exactly like him.”

“Maybe. He’s still one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. But he can be rather manic.”

“True words.” Mila stretched her arms above her shoulders. “Anyways, shall we ride?”

“Yes, I’d love to get some fresh air before the others arrive. And just clear my head for a bit.”

Yuri watched them leave the salon. He was confused. _So Mila is in love with a woman? Fair enough. But this General invites people to late night steeplechases? What the hell does that even mean?_ He decided he would try to pay careful attention later that evening. 

And then it dawned on him how strange it was to ever care so much about a human conversation. In the forest, everything spoke to everything. Yuri was always listening to the silence that spoke volumes, flitting from one place to the next to help the creatures maintain balance. The speech of the humans that passed through, whether in waking life or in dreams, was just noise to him. Trivial. 

_But I want to know more about him_ , Yuri thought.

He saw the two figures pass by on their horses out the window, and the feeling of yearning increased.

Cold was not something that ever bothered Yuri physically. He could sense it, but ice was in his nature, and he loved the feeling of the frozen lake beneath his feet. No, cold was something that Yuri could only feel on the inside, from distance and absence. He hated being trapped inside the box of Mila’s house, away from the forest and the lake. And he wished Mila and Otabek would come back.

He’d never felt colder in his life.

☙

“Otabek, what are you doing?” Rivken stood in the door frame of the workshop. He was a thin man with bushy eyebrows that moved theatrically when he spoke. In Otabek’s memory, they were lowered with concern. “If you never take a break, it will make you ill. Besides, it isn't good for a young person to be cooped up indoors all day. Why don’t you go and take Melek to the edge of the valley? There’s still a few hours before sundown, you could go and bring back some flowers for Sister Gulnaz.” 

“I’m sorry, I lost track of time,” Otabek said. He became Matvei Rivken’s apprentice when he was twelve years old. Rivken was a widower who had no children, but a thriving business selling and servicing all kinds of mechanical goods.

“Perhaps our next project ought to be to design a cuckoo clock to help you,” Rivken said.

“Oh! I’d really like to design a clock!” Otabek reached for his pencil again and Rivken calmly took it from his hand.

“Beka,” he said. “Take a break.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Otabek took his coat from its hook by the door and walked out to the stables. It was a beautiful Autumn day, cool in the shade, but warm in the sun. Melek was a gorgeous, tall black mare with a wavy mane and tail and a glossy coat. Otabek loved that horse, and that horse loved to run. She was feisty and brash with most riders, but enchantingly fast. Just looking at her gave Otabek a thrill.

“Reza!” Otabek waved to the stable attendant. “Do you have any carrots?”

“What, do you need to make a peace offering to that she-devil?” he asked. “Here.”

The horse didn’t just run, she flew. It gave Otabek a supreme feeling of freedom. And he found that Rivken was right. It was much easier to concentrate the next day after spending time outside. Otabek got into a rhythm with the horse and felt his mind become vast. Ideas came in waves. 

He let the horse stop for a drink from a stream and a snack of grass while he gathered flowers to bring back. When Otabek was eight years old, a famine took his parents and his grandmother. Sister Gulnaz was the youngest of the nuns at the small monastery on the outskirts of Verniy where Otabek’s family lived. She insisted on taking in him and his sister, Aruzhan. When the abbess protested, Gulnaz stood her ground with a tenacity that reminded Otabek a great deal of Melek the horse. 

Gulnaz taught him Russian grammar and Church Slavonic, and how to read music and play the piano. It was Rivken’s sister, Devorah, who had taught him French and how to properly ride a horse. 

The Rivkens had an enormous collection of books, and when Otabek wasn’t busy working on something for Matvei, he was usually lost in their library. There were books in Russian, Kazakh, French, Hebrew, Arabic, and even a few in German that were completely lost on Otabek, but filled with wonderful illustrations. The illustrated books always made him think of Aruzhan. She had died of a fever a few months before Otabek left the monastery. It wasn’t until Otabek was an adult that he fully understood how personally Gulnaz had taken Aruzhan’s passing. 

Otabek missed the valley he grew up in. But there was something pristine and pure about the Countess’s land, and it spoke to him. Coming out there from the city, he felt like a dark haze had been lifted off of him, and he felt much more like he did as a child, able to think more clearly and vividly. Fortunately for Otabek, Mila was also an aggressive rider, unafraid to sprint. Otabek sensed a friendly competition between the two horses. He leaned in and let them fly, the orange trees like a blur of fire around them.

☙

When Otabek and Mila walked back into the salon, the sun was just about to set, and Yuri thought he could see carriages approaching at the end of the long drive into the manor. Yuri was anxious to leave the doll’s body again, even if he intended to stay in the room. Mila wore a long, forest green velvet gown that showed off her shoulders, and Otabek wore a navy blue jacket and a silk cravat the color of ice. Yuri liked it immediately. Each of them held a crystal flute of what Yuri assumed was wine. _Yuck. What an abuse of perfectly good fruit._

“You’ve never played the piano for me,” Mila said.

Otabek shook his head. “I’m so out of practice, it would make you laugh.”

She grabbed his hand and sat down with him on the piano bench. “I think you’re just being modest again.”

“No, it’s really quite sad,” he sad. “But I can play a few folk tunes from memory still.”

She clapped her hands together.

“All right, then,” he said. He began to play a slightly somber sounding tune that neither Mila nor Yuri had ever heard before. Yuri watched it unfold into the room. It had a totally different shape from the Western pieces Mila played earlier. It brought images of a golden sun rising over a lush green valley. Otabek’s face looked serene as he played, and his shoulders relaxed.

“It’s lovely,” Mila said. “Will you play it again? And can I try something?”

Otabek played it from the beginning, and Mila played the higher notes, a separate part that she composed on the fly. It sounded to Yuri like a child skipping across the grass, but it felt like it belonged, it matched somehow.

Otabek sighed. “I wish I could do that. I’ve never been good at improvising melodies.”

“It’s the only thing I’m truly good at,” Mila said. She took a sip of her wine.

 _Why did you stop?_ Yuri thought. _Keep playing! I want to hear more!_ Yuri sensed that steps between the notes were different; the sound drew different patterns in the air, and it made the room feel richer and more welcoming. 

“I know a few more if you’d like to hear them,” Otabek said.

“Of course I would!”

They continued to play, and Mila continued to write new twinkling melodies that lay above the originals like fireflies hovering over the grass. The sound had depth; it eased the pain of being trapped for Yuri. 

“You should write these down,” Otabek said. “I can read music, but I’m pitifully slow to notate it myself.”

“I don’t see why not. I have the time,” Mila said. 

Then the butler appeared in the door frame. “Madame, General Nikiforov and Lord Katsuki are here, as are Lord and Lady Crispino” he said.

Mila flitted like a butterfly to greet them. Otabek’s slightly stiff, reserved posture returned. The sky was turning pink, and Yuri’s astral body braced against the confinement of the doll. 

“Otabek!” A tall man with silvery gray hair waltzed into the room and gave Otabek a hug and air kisses on each cheek. He jingled when he walked. A profusion of medals and charms hung from his jacket, and braided gold cord wove itself in intricate curlicues around rows of bright gold buttons. Yuri thought he looked like a Christmas tree. 

_Who is this clown?_ Yuri wondered. _He looks dressed for the doll case._

“Has something happened?” the man asked Otabek.

“I’m sorry, General, I’m not quite following you,” Otabek said.

“You just look so much less grim than usual!” The man had a wide, beaming smile. “It seems the country air is good for you, perhaps you should take breaks out here more often,” he said. “Oh, I must introduce you to my companion.” He reached for the hand of a shorter, shy looking man with dark hair and glasses, in a dark gray suit with a blue tie. Yuri had only ever encountered people from the far eastern part of the world in the spaces of dreams. 

“This is Yuuri Katsuki, from Japan,” the General said. “He’s a military historian!” He threw his arm around the man’s shoulder. “He’s writing a book on the military history of Russia and Europe, so I’m helping with his research! It’s going to be glorious!” 

_What the hell? Another Yuri?_ Yuri noticed the man had a habit of bowing to everyone, which he found unusual. 

“Yuuri, Otabek is one of my genius engineers, he hails from the eastern part of the empire. When we get back to the city, I will show you some of his work. Simply outstanding!”

Yuri was frustrated. The General spoke mainly in Russian, but the historian spoke mostly French, which Yuri struggled to understand.

“I would very much like to see where you work,” Katsuki said to Otabek with an imploring smile. “The history of technology is quite fascinating to me as well.”

Yuri watched the faces and gestures of the speakers carefully, and tried to feel the shape and color of the words as if they were music. But he still couldn’t quite discern what they were talking about. Otabek seemed to like the shy, foreign man.

“Ah! I see I am required again, please excuse me.” Katsuki bowed and the General swooped in and took him by the arm for more introductions. 

The salon filled up with guests, and Yuri tried to keep track of their names and origins, as if he were memorizing the names and functions of chess pieces. The General, Viktor (aptly named, Yuri thought) and the Historian, Yuuri (too close for comfort). The Italian diplomats, Michele and Sara, a brother and sister. An energetic young man from Prague, who owned a brewery on the outskirts of Saint Petersburg, called Emil Nekola. Anya, the witch. A bombastic Frenchman with a voice like a braying horse, named Jean Jacques, and his cloying Spanish wife, Isabella. Another Spaniard named Leo, a chemist who worked with explosives and gunpowder. And a Swiss man named Christophe, who was nearly as shiny and gaudy as the General himself. 

“Sara, your Russian is sounding so beautiful, I’m so impressed.” the General twirled her around. Her brother gave him a withering glare. “I wish I could say the same for you, Michele,” he said between air kisses. He clapped Michele on the shoulder. “But don’t worry, just stick with it.” He winked. 

Sara wore a long gown the color of wisteria, with a long fringe of pleated lace hanging off the shoulders. Michele wore an officer’s jacket with a sash in the same purple color, and a dark green silk cravat. 

In the corner of the room, Potya the cat licked his paws. He looked into the doll case.

 _Come on, Potya_ , Yuri thought. _You really think one of these lunatics is going to help me?_

The Countess led her guests into the dining room. Yuri struggled to concentrate and listen during the meal. _What a bunch of worthless blabbering_ , he thought. _None of this helps me at all._

He recognized Otabek and Katsuki’s voices the most easily, but they spoke in French nearly the entire time. Yuri tried as hard as he could to understand, and see the archetypes behind their speech. He felt images of metal, machinery, the ocean, horses. But it remained vague. 

When the meal was over, it was finally completely dark. He extracted himself from the doll, clicked his fingers, and settled down onto Otabek’s shoulder like a tiny, invisible snowflake.

“Everyone, my dear Yuuri has brought gifts for all of you,” the General announced, nearly spilling his glass of champagne. From the haze building in the energy around him, Yuri suspected he’d already had more than a few. 

For the ladies there were folding paper fans in rich jewel tones, layered with bright gold ink. Long robes with wide sleeves in colorful prints for each guest that looked far more practical to Yuri than their typical glittering getup. Kastuki presented a wooden box with an emblem burned into the front to the Countess. She opened it and gasped.

“The General tells me you are an avid collector of dolls, so I had this one sent over,” he said. “This one is a likeness of a famous dancer in my country, who we call ‘Minako’.” 

“It’s absolutely beautiful!” Mila threw her arms around Katsuki and his face flushed bright red. 

“There’s something else for everyone that I believe is quite universal,” the General said. He and Katsuki looked at each other, and at the same time shouted “Sake!”

Yuri watched the company fawn over their presents and drink from tiny ceramic cups. 

_What is this stuff? Who would do this to perfectly good rice? What a waste! Oh, God, they’re all going to be piss drunk and obnoxious._ He leaned against the fold of Otabek’s cravat and clung to the silvery fabric in despair. _What am I going to do?_ _If they even dream at all, I doubt they’ll even be able to hear me._

Katsuki wasn’t quite finished with his gifts. He sat down next to Otabek again, carrying a long, thin book, bound with a colorful woven cord. “I thought you might like this, perhaps,” he said. “It’s from my personal collection.”

Otabek drew back slightly, and Katsuki began chattering on in his nervous way again. “Oh, but don’t worry, I come from a long line of scholars and scribes, we have more books than anyone possibly needs!” He bowed his head again and handed the book to Otabek. “These are wood block carvings, done in a traditional style,” he said. “This artist is famous for his carvings of horses, and well, Viktor tells me you’re an accomplished horseman yourself, so I simply thought…”

“This is incredible,” Otabek said. He turned the pages gently. One showed an archer on horseback riding through a lush green field, bordered by flowering trees. “Thank you so much.” He turned to Katsuki. “This is beautiful. It’s really thoughtful of you--”

“It’s no problem at all, my pleasure!” Katsuki flipped his hands about. Yuri had the impression that he was made of bees. But he’d done something that made Otabek happy, so Yuri at least appreciated him for that. 

Yuri looked at the page. It was just lines on paper, and yet he immediately knew what it was, and felt a sense of the place. Somewhere, very far away, was a real tree that stood in just the same way. Yuri liked the way the lines moved around the page. He felt like he could jump inside it, like a portal in a dream. It was strange to him; plenty of animals spoke in images, but only humans made images. These in particular, he liked quite a lot. 

His heart sank when Otabek shut the book and set it to the side. _Hey, I wanted to see more of that!_

The General enthusiastically refilled everyone’s tiny cups with the strange spirit. Yuri crossed his arms and pouted. His wings hung limp down his back.

The rest of the evening was drinking and music. The more the guests drank, the more a murky, smoky darkness filled the corners of the room. But the music, at least, was a feast of vision. The guests took turns at the piano and singing, or playing any of Mila’s collection of eccentric instruments. For Yuri, their songs were like a kaleidoscope, each one bringing different colors and spaces of light. 

Sara had a bright, clear voice that brought Yuri images of fresh spring water in the sun. He couldn’t understand the words of the arias she sung in Italian, but when she sang he could see a garden in her mind, loaded with flowers and fruit. The brewer Nekola’s guitar turned the salon into a warm wooden tavern filled with mountain travelers. The Spanish lady, Isabella, had barely stopped talking since she arrived, but even she brought images of orange blossoms and castles by the ocean when she sang along to Leo’s twelve-stringed guitar.

 _What do they need so many languages for?_ Yuri wondered. _Do they even say anything important?_ But then, he supposed humans didn’t speak in images, unless they were deep in dreams. _Are they seeing what I’m seeing?_ Every sound was rich and synesthetic, and each song was a tiny environment, like the prints in Otabek’s book. _Are they doing this on purpose, or not?_

 _I guess I can handle being around some humans if they’re musicians or artists_ , he thought. _Then at least it’s a little bit like speaking to the animals or the trees._

The guests laughed, talked, and drank, and Yuri’s head felt like it was spinning from noise. He realized how bitterly he missed the outdoors. He drifted away from the little harbor of Otabek’s shoulder and wandered out into the herb garden again. He lay down in the dirt and looked up at the moon. It made him feel a little bit better, but after a while he started to shake and cry again at how badly he missed his own body. Being a ghost was not enough. Yuri wanted to touch the Earth again, talk to the birds, and compose snowflakes. The revelry in the house was outside of his nature. 

He waited patiently for the guests to retire to sleep. He had no other choice.


	5. Chapter 5

Yuri walked back into the salon through the window. The walls were dense with echoes of the music. Little flecks of light still shone here and there. Yuri looked at the brilliant silver cord that connected his astral body to the doll. Such cords were indestructible, unless the dreamer’s physical body died. 

_All right_ , he thought. _Time to find a dreamer and state my case._

One evening, when Lilia was teaching him the art of dreamwalking, they walked their astral bodies down the main street of Berezhovoye village. Away from the water, Lilia appeared as a tall woman with long, sweeping dark hair, in a thin, flowing dress that faded from a dark blue at the shoulders to a deep emerald green at the skirt. Looking at the houses that lined the street, there were silver threads leading in all directions. Then, Yuri noticed a dark figure a short distance in front of them. It looked like a person, but covered in a heavy muck of black, rotting leaves.

Yuri grimaced. “What is that?”

“It’s a villager,” Lilia said. “Look closely, do you see the silver thread?” Sure enough, it led to a house at the far end of the village.

“But what’s wrong with him?”

“He’s a drunkard,” Lilia said plainly. “The humans love to take fruits and grains and ferment them into alcohol.” 

“But why?” Yuri was confused. “How could you possibly improve upon a piece of fruit?”

“It makes them happy, in the beginning,” Lilia said. “A little bit doesn’t hurt them. It’s when they have too much of it that it becomes like a poison.” They walked slowly and followed the thread back to the figure’s house. “It creates an astral poison, over time,” she said. “Sometimes it keeps people from dreaming. Other times it draws the astral muck to them. Or it weighs them down and takes them into lower realms.”

Yuri found it vile. They reached the sleeper’s home, a blacksmith’s shop. The public area in the front was tidy and ordinary. But the man’s living quarters in the back were strewn with bottles, piles of dirty clothes and rags. Spoiled food still lay on the table.

“Why would he do this?” Yuri asked Lilia.

“Sometimes when people are in pain, they will do anything just to feel a little bit better,” she said with a shrug. “Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.”

Yuri felt deeply confused by humans. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“Probably, he will continue to roam about until he wakes up. I doubt he will enter any dream realms, but if he does, they won’t be the ones you and I will want to visit. Let’s leave him for now, Yuri. The time is not right for us to intervene.”

Yuri wondered when the time would ever be right to intervene in human affairs. 

The same astral muck that felt like black leaves was heavy in the manor house. One bedroom, he noticed, was suspiciously free of it. Even though he knew he was invisible, he walked cautiously through the door. It was dark except for a fire still burning in the fireplace. Mila lay in bed with Sara, running her fingers through Sara’s long, glossy hair that shone in the fire light. They spoke in low voices. Yuri noticed their shoulders were bare, covered by a heavy blanket. With their hair loose, and free from their corseted dresses, they looked much more like fairies to Yuri. A significant improvement!

“Didn’t you say it would take an act of God to wake him once he’s had this much to drink?” Mila asked. She kissed Sara’s cheek, then her neck. 

_Aha! So they drank less on purpose, to make the others sleep!_ Yuri thought. _Very clever._

“I did say that, didn’t I.” Sara sighed. Mila kissed her collarbone, then the center of her chest. 

“Do you know why I always give you this room?” Mila asked. “There’s a secret door in the wall. One of the panels opens up and leads to a small corridor in the back of the house.”

Yuri didn’t understand why they were so worried about being seen. To him they looked just like two of the undines from the river nearby, in their human forms. When they thought they were alone, or at least away from human eyes, they would luxuriate in the sun, often lying together in pairs. It hadn’t occurred to Yuri to seek out the company of other elementals. But the undines seemed supremely happy.

“If your knight in shining armor comes calling, I can simply disappear,” Mila said. Sara clutched Mila closer to her and kissed her lips. 

Yuri wondered if Sara were part undine. They weren’t as notorious as the ocean sirens, but perhaps that would explain her allure, he thought. 

_Well, these two aren’t going to sleep any time soon, are they? I should get going._ But he continued to watch them for a moment. They looked so profoundly happy. It made sense that they’d be upset to be apart. 

Yuri left them alone and looked into the fireplace. _No way_ , he thought. _There’s no way I’m agreeing with Kerebos...but it feels terrible to be away from someone when you want to be close to them._ He crossed his arms and scowled into the fire.

There was a face in the flames. _Ah, it’s a salamander!_ Yuri realized. He didn’t often encounter fire elementals in the forest. He forgot that they sometimes lived in hearths and near sites for bonfires. _If only she could see me!_ Yuri thought. _I bet she’s seen some things! It feels like she must have been in this house for generations. I bet she would know who can get me out of this mess._

Yuri continued his search. In the adjacent bedroom, the General and the historian slept like the dead, in a tangle of limbs. The astral smoke was heavy in the room, and neither of them was dreaming; their astral bodies remained close by to the physical. But even with the haze around them, they had contented expressions on their faces. _Well, maybe it’s not so bad for them. If they’re not dreaming, maybe the alcohol won’t get to them too much._

_Wait a second, since when do I care what happens to a bunch of drunk humans?!_ Yuri gripped his hair in consternation. There was only one human Yuri was really interested in, anyway. He walked through the wall back out into the hallway and nearly collided with Otabek.

“I’m sorry,” Otabek said. “I didn’t see you there.” 

Yuri stood frozen for a moment. This wasn’t good. Otabek’s astral body was roaming about the house, and it didn’t seem to be on purpose, like Anya’s. If that were true, that meant he was lost, and liable to pick up any number of noxious energies; things that would make him agitated or depressed without him consciously knowing why. The black smoke followed him in thick swirls. Otabek’s projection wore a flowy white shirt, a vest embroidered with a pattern of spiral shapes that terminated in attractive points, black trousers, and tall, shiny riding boots. But his vest and shirt hung open, and Yuri could see what looked like black leaves stuck to his chest, neck, and the sides of his face.

_Oh no_ , Yuri thought. _What if he doesn’t know he’s dreaming?_

“That’s strange,” Otabek said. “I don’t remember seeing you at the party. Do you live here?”

_Ok, he’s definitely still drunk_ , Yuri thought. His astral wings were collapsed into his back, and Yuri supposed he must have looked relatively human. “Oh, no, I’m just visiting,” he said, trying to hide his panic. Yuri never figured out exactly what happened to the drunkard in the village. He didn’t know what kinds of spaces the black leaves might drag a dreamer down into. Surely, they came back? But how ill or lost would it make them?

“What’s your name?” Otabek asked. 

“Uh...I’m called Yuri.”

Otabek reached out his astral hand to shake Yuri’s and introduce himself. But instead Yuri held Otabek’s hand with both of his and looked up at him with a worried expression. “Is something the matter?” Otabek asked.

_He’s delirious from that foreigner’s firewater, but he’s still kind_ , Yuri thought. “Hey, Otabek,” Yuri said, “why don’t you come with me? I think I can help you with your, um...leaf problem.”

“All right, Yuri. If you say so.” He had a spacey smile. “I couldn’t say no to a handsome young man on an evening as fine as this.”

Yuri felt his spectre’s cheeks flush. In the dark hall, they looked a little brighter. _I guess he’s liable to say anything if he’s still drunk...oh God._

Yuri held Otabek’s astral hand and walked slowly down the hall, following the thread leading to Otabek’s body. It was the first time in days that Yuri felt himself holding onto something solid. An astral object could only grasp another astral object. Otabek’s grip was firm, and Yuri felt such warmth flowing from his hand. 

Yuri wondered what he would have done if he’d encountered Otabek by the lake instead of here, in the Countess’s house. He was sure he would have found the man attractive, and might even have followed him for a while as the tiny light, curious about him. If it hadn’t been for the pernicious black leaves, Yuri would have thought Otabek’s projection was even more beautiful than his physical body. According to Lilia, the astral body showed you how the person in question saw themself. She said it was often quite different from the physical, and it had a curious habit of changing in dreams, depending on how the dreamer saw themself in each space. Yuri supposed Otabek saw himself more than anything as a horseman from his eastern home. 

They walked back into the small bedroom where Otabek’s body lay sleeping. Otabek hadn’t noticed his body yet, which was for the best. Yuri was nervous. He didn’t want to get this wrong. _I think out of all the humans, he’s the most likely to be able to help me...but he won’t remember his dreams if the smoke is too dense! And there’s a chance that he won’t remember me at all..._

“Here,” Yuri said, “Sit down for just a moment.” 

Otabek did so and smiled, still slightly loopy. “All right. And now that you’ve taken me back to my bedroom, what do you plan to do with me?” His voice was huskier and more flirtatious than Yuri remembered it being while he was awake. For a second, Yuri thought of the two women down the hall. _Yuri, snap out of it!_ He told himself.

“Excuse me for being so forward,” Yuri said. “But just...hold still for a second.” _Please, God_ , Yuri prayed to the sky, to his origin. _Please let this work._ Yuri reached for the edge of one of the leaves that had formed on the side of Otabek’s face. Otabek placed his hands on Yuri’s waist. 

_Ahh! Don’t get distracted._ _Oh god, what does he think I want to do with him?_ Yuri peeled the leaf off Otabek’s face as carefully as he could. But it was stuck on mightily. _Oh, no. Please work. Please. I don’t want to hurt him…_

Yuri pulled the last of the leaf free, and black tears began to fall from Otabek’s eyes. Yuri gasped. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Otabek said, his voice warm as ever. Yuri realized this was how the smoke was leaving Otabek’s body. The dark space around his physical body felt a little bit brighter. “I feel much better. You should have told me you were a doctor, but you look so young to be one.”

_He can’t be much more sober yet_ , Yuri thought. He stood in front of Otabek, sitting on the bed; Otabek rested his hands on the small of Yuri’s back. “Oh, well, um, I’m not really a doctor…”

“Oh, are you a folk healer?” Otabek asked. The black tears were beginning to evaporate. 

“Ah...sort of. You could call it that.” _He has such a nice face_ , Yuri thought. Then his eyes drifted down to Otabek’s open shirt, his fingers still resting lightly on the spot where the leaf had been. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This should only take a minute…”

“Take your time,” Otabek said. His smile was fox-like. “I like this treatment of yours.” 

Yuri supposed he didn’t have to hurry. The dark haze swirled around them on the floor, but it lightened as Yuri removed the leaves, and Otabek seemed too content to wander off into a different space. Yuri slowly peeled another leaf from the side of Otabek’s neck, and crumbled it into astral dust. Yuri wasn’t used to working magic in this way. Lilia had taught him incantations and sigils for removing unwanted influences. But this seemed to be much faster...and it gave Yuri a curious feeling to stand and work with Otabek’s arms around him. 

Yuri felt his body tremble slightly. He never touched anyone like this, human or elemental. He was shocked at how good it felt. Physical heat didn’t mean very much to him, to except to gauge how his beloved plants and animals were feeling. But even though he loved the ice and the snow more than anything, Yuri still loved to bask in the sun, and watch the sunlight glint off of the icicles, the surface of the snow, and the frozen lake. After all, ice couldn’t sparkle without the sunlight and the moon. Yuri lay his hand on Otabek’s chest and pulled another leaf from his collarbone. As the haze subsided, Yuri felt more and more like he was sitting in the sun, and a solar feeling poured into his body from Otabek’s hands.

Otabek directed Yuri to sit on his knee. _What’s he going to think of all this once he’s totally sober?_ Yuri wondered. He’d only ever seen drunk, handsy villagers a couple of times during his invisible strolls with Lilia while she taught him magic. _Does he know he’s dreaming?_ Otabek was so reserved and formal from what Yuri had seen of his waking personality. Yuri wanted to keep sitting with Otabek, and he didn’t want Otabek to be shocked, or mortified with embarrassment when he sobered up. Yuri nervously pulled away the last of the leaves, from Otabek’s waist. 

The room was clear. Yuri still felt the astral smoke in the hallway, and it still seeped in slowly under the door. But the light from the moon outside shone through the window, through the two faint, shimmering figures sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Otabek took a deep breath. “Thank you,” he said.

“It’s not a problem,” Yuri said. “I just didn’t--”

Otabek kissed him before he could finish his sentence. 

☙

“Emotions are not the same in dreams,” Lilia explained to Yuri. “Things that make no sense in waking life often make perfect sense in dreams. Here,” she said. “I will show you one of the paradoxes of dreams.” She drew in the air with her finger and a glowing sigil appeared. “There are two kinds of dream spaces, Yuri. Internal and external. An internal space belongs to the dreamer alone,” she said. “It’s made up of their memories, imaginings, and feelings. An external space can be visited by multiple people. Sometimes they’re temporary, sometimes permanent. Sometimes they are real, physical places, and sometimes they are astral places. I will show you one of my own internal spaces.” She drew three other sigils in the air, and glowing lines appeared, connecting them; four points of a square. The space between them turned silver and rippled like a melting mirror. 

“This is a portal,” Lilia said. There were several ways to reach dream spaces on purpose, and the most direct and accurate was portals. “When you look at my body, it will appear as though I’ve walked through a door,” Lilia said. “But that is one of the paradoxes of space. This realm belongs to me alone, it is inside my consciousness. Follow me,” she said. She stepped through the rippling glass, and Yuri followed her. 

He was in a long room lined with mirrors. A wooden bar attached to the wall ran the length of the room. A young man with sandy colored hair sat at a piano in the corner, fervently practicing a piece of music. Yuri turned to Lilia. She looked different, younger and human. Her hair was tied up in a knot at the top of her head and she wore a pale pink dress with a long white skirt. 

“The man you are seeing is just my memory of him,” Lilia said. “Yuri, how would you know if it were really him, and not just my image?”

“There would be a silver thread coming from his back,” Yuri said.

“Exactly.”

But Yuri was confused. Lilia was a lake spirit. Why would she have memories of a human life, and why did her astral body suddenly look so different? There was so much she still needed to explain to him. 

☙

Yuri felt his whole body radiate with light when Otabek kissed him, like sunrise on the winter solstice. Otabek put his arm around Yuri’s back, and noticed the glowing channels.

“You didn’t tell me you had wings.” Otabek looked over Yuri’s shoulder. “Will you show them to me?”

“All right,” Yuri said. He felt delirious from Otabek’s kiss, as thought it were him who had been drunk. He stood up and let his wings unfold, like six long pieces of extremely thin, carved ice. Otabek reached out to touch them, mesmerized by the intricate pattern. But Yuri noticed a vine of smoke starting to wrap itself around them again, and it made him worried.

“Otabek, can I ask you something?” He rested his hands on Otabek’s shoulders.

“Of course.”

“If you could go to any place in the world, or visit any person, or any time, where would you most want to go?” Yuri asked.

Otabek’s expression turned sad. “Well, that’s easy,” he said. “I’d want to go home. I’d want to see my sister again.”

Yuri began to feel nervous and afraid again. _If only Lilia could help me. Or the salamanders! Oh God, I need him to remember me…_ “Where are you from, Otabek? Where is home for you?” The smoke was climbing its way up their legs. Yuri was afraid it would intoxicate him, too, and make him disoriented.

“Verniy,” Otabek said. “On the Almatinsky River.”

Yuri drew the first sigil. It hung in the air, but it looked dim. _Oh no._ “What’s it like there?” Yuri asked. _Come on, think!_ He told himself. _You can do this! If the human witches can do this, then so can you!_ He felt a twinge of inspiration from the moon shining through the window. “What do you love about it there?”

“There are beautiful valleys,” he said. “I used to ride horses through them…”

The sigil lit up, blue like Yuri’s wings. _That’s it!_ “And your sister...what’s her name?” Yuri drew the second sigil, still dim.

“Her name was Aruzhan,” Otabek said. His eyes began to tear up again, sparkling this time instead of black. The second sigil glowed.

“What was she like?” Yuri asked. He grabbed Otabek’s hand with his left and drew the third sigil with his right. 

“She was very funny,” Otabek said. “Very energetic. She had a beautiful singing voice. She loved music.”

“Otabek...if you saw her again, can you think of something you would want to say to her?” Yuri asked as he drew the fourth sigil. 

“Of course,” he said. Yuri noticed the sparkly, astral tears. 

The plane that formed in the air between the sigils turned silver and began to ripple like water. Otabek’s eyes opened wider.

“What’s the matter?” Yuri asked. 

Otabek looked down and noticed the thin silver cord. He saw his body lying on the bed. 

Yuri panicked. Lilia warned him that it was sometimes a terrifying experience for humans to see their physical bodies while dreaming. “Most of them only ‘think’ they have a soul,” she said. “They don’t yet truly believe it, because they haven’t seen it. Once they see that they are not their bodies, some of them panic. But some of them feel relieved.”

“That’s me, isn’t it?” Otabek said, looking at the sleeping figure. “Am I dead?” he asked Yuri.

“No! You aren’t dead, you’re dreaming,” Yuri said. _Please don’t wake up,_ he thought. 

Otabek looked around, then at his astral hands. “So none of this is real?”

“No, it’s very real! It’s just happening in a dream,” Yuri said. He reached for Otabek’s hands. The smoke was building up in the room again. “Otabek, will you come with me? It’s getting very dark in here.”

“All right,” he said. 

_Please, God_ , Yuri thought, _please let this portal take us somewhere the smoke won’t reach him. Please take him somewhere safe._ If Yuri made a mistake, he could follow the silver threads back, and try again. Or so he hoped. But he didn’t want to expose either of them to anything dangerous or noxious first. He held Otabek’s hand as they walked through the portal.

☙

_It’s not my dream, I shouldn’t interfere_ , Yuri thought. He clicked his fingers and flew as the tiny light down a long corridor while Otabek followed behind. The walls were green with the same gold rococo molding as Mila’s salon. Instruments hung from them. The farther Yuri flew and Otabek walked, the more instruments there were, until finally the hall opened up into an unusual room, the likes of which Yuri had never seen before.

A young woman who looked to be about Otabek’s age knelt in the center of the room playing an elegant instrument with a long, narrow neck, and only two strings. She had dark hair that reached her shoulders. She wore a long red tunic bordered in the same spiral patterns as Otabek’s vest, with a fluffy white skirt underneath it.

The room looked to Yuri like it was made of heavy cloth, in a round shape, with thick red cords lacing it together in a complicated lattice around the edge of the ceiling. Colorful tapestries hung from the walls, and the woman sat on an ornate rug herself. 

“Beka! You’re late,” she said.

“I’m sorry.” He sat down in front of her. “I had too much to drink, I really should have known better.”

“You did?” she asked. “But you haven’t got a case of the leaves.”

“No, I met a healer on the way here and got some help with that,” Otabek said. “Anyways, here I am!”

“Good!” she said with a smile. “Are you ready?”

Otabek nodded and picked up a similar instrument. The woman played a few measures, then Otabek played them back. This went on for some time. Then, they played a piece for two musicians. It began with a simple melody, but every few measures it changed slightly, steadily alchemizing into a different song. 

Yuri sat on Otabek’s shoulder again and listened. This music was unlike anything that could be played in waking life. It wasn’t just shapes and colors that Yuri felt emanating from the instruments, but entire memories and visions. Yuri saw a brilliant golden sun coming up over the valleys near Otabek’s hometown. Horses with warriors on their backs riding across the steppe. The inside of what looked like a church, or maybe a monastery. An old woman weaving on a loom. A young girl lying on a bed with her eyes closed, surrounded by priests and nuns. The delicate insides of a piece of machinery. The musicians played and images flowed.

Yuri realized the two of them were speaking to each other without talking.

_Life has felt so empty without you, Aru_ , Otabek played. Yuri saw an image of a hallway with a black and white tile floor.

_I know_ , Aruzhan played. _But there is a fullness of life that can always be reached. Shall I play it for you?_

Otabek set his instrument down. Aruzhan played a slightly different tune, and a bright gold light began to fill the room. Then Yuri noticed something: there was a luminous thread coming from her, but it wasn’t silver. It was gold. 

That meant it was really her. Not a memory of Otabek’s, or a projection of his imagination. The real Aruzhan had met them in the dream space of Otabek’s. 

Yuri trembled against Otabek’s neck. He couldn’t tell if Lilia would be elated to hear about this, or if she would punish him severely. He’d never created a portal on his own, and to commune with the dead, even the ascended dead...that was a topic he didn’t think he’d get to reach for years.

Aruzhan moved her eyes very slightly and looked at Yuri, perched on her brother’s shoulder. At first Yuri was afraid, but her gaze had all the softness of a perfect snowfall in it. In a flash, Yuri understood that it was Otabek who had made the portal open, but Yuri who had provided the structure for it. If Otabek hadn’t wanted to go into the dream space, Yuri would not have been able to take him there.

The gold light became brighter and brighter. Then Yuri realized he could feel the physical sun beginning to rise. Time was passing differently in the waking world. Yuri wanted to scream or cry, but he didn’t dare interrupt Otabek’s dream. He felt a pull along the silver cord. Yuri reached up to whisper in Otabek’s ear.

“Otabek, please, I need your help! In the morning, come find me in Mila’s salon. Please, don’t forget me! My name is Yuri. You have to come find me!” 

Returning to his body felt like falling through a dark abyss, until all he could see was the pale morning sky through Mila’s window. After the glorious music Aruzhan played, and the wonderful light, the physical husk of the doll’s body felt unbearably empty and cold.


	6. Chapter 6

Otabek’s body felt heavy and sore when he woke up. The morning light filtered in softly through the window, and Otabek heard the roosters in the distance trying to out-crow each other. He took a deep breath and rolled onto his side. He didn’t feel nearly as hungover as he expected to. Katsuki and the General had served them all so many tiny cups of the dry rice wine that Otabek lost track and gave up, letting himself drink until he stumbled into the little guest room. 

He remembered meeting two figures in his dream. A woman in red and a young man in white. Then he was startled: Otabek hadn’t remembered his dreams since he was a child. It was just after the time that Aruzhan passed away that he could no longer remember what he saw at night.

Aruzhan!

Otabek knew it was her. But she looked older, like the age she would be if she’d still been alive. Otabek closed his eyes and tried as hard as he could to remember the dream. _She looked so beautiful, like a bride!_ _Oh, God_ , Otabek thought, _if she were still with me, would I be as controlling and insane as Michele is with Sara?_ Otabek doubted he would have found any potential suitor acceptable for his sister. 

_She was playing the dombra...and then she taught me..._ Otabek remembered a fragment of the melody she played. She’d always loved the sound of the dombra more than any other instrument, and always wanted to learn to play. Otabek let the melody play through his head, and as he did, he recalled more of the dream. They were sitting in his grandmother’s yurt. Sister Gulnaz had stored the tapestries and furniture for them, and once Otabek found a place to live and steady work in St. Petersburg, he had a few of them sent to him, and told Gulnaz to sell the rest to benefit the monastery. 

He turned over onto his stomach, clutching the down pillow. They’d said almost nothing to each other. But just to see her again, to be near her! It was like a glimpse of the afterlife. And to dream again after so many years! Otabek felt as though something had shifted, like he’d been touched by something marvelous.

And then...there was the young man in white. Before he saw Aruzhan, Otabek had been talking to someone. Otabek remembered kissing him, but he couldn’t remember why. He supposed he wasn’t surprised to have a dream like that after drinking so much. Otabek had never kissed anyone sober. The only times he’d kissed anyone, it had been in the General’s bathhouse, after many, many shots of vodka. 

The man looked young, maybe Otabek’s age or a little bit younger. He had a Nordic appearance, with delicate, pointed features, and long, soft hair that reminded Otabek of a painting. _But what did he say to me?_ He seemed shy and reticent at first, but then he draped his arms around Otabek’s neck and kissed him back in a slow, exploratory way. And then, he looked gravely worried about something. 

Otabek’s body flushed with heat as he remembered what it felt like to touch him, to pull him onto his lap, to kiss him. He’d worn a thin crown of some kind, and an unusual garment, a short tunic with open sides from the waist up that revealed most of his chest. He reminded Otabek of an acrobat, muscular but slim. 

Otabek sighed and wished he could re-enter the dream. If it was just a dream, then there was no harm in doing whatever they wanted, was there? He wanted to see the young man again and take the tunic off of him this time, lock the door to the room and lie down on the bed with him...

These were the kind of thoughts he used to always try to push out of his mind. On this particular morning, he felt a swell of anger, still clutching the pillow and wishing it were his companion from the night before. When he was younger, these thoughts mortified him, and he tried to recite some scripture, read, or fetch his notebook to draw in to put his mind on other things. As he got a bit older, he tried to prompt himself to think of more women. But while there were plenty of women he found sensual and charming, there were as many or more men who caught his eye. Otabek made a point of keeping a straight face and level gaze when he passed by the new army recruits. 

Otabek knew that the General and Katsuki were in the room adjacent to his. They were undoubtedly having an affair, and Otabek felt his insides curdle with jealousy and resentment. It wasn’t so much that Otabek was interested in Katsuki for himself, although he found the man endearing. It was that Nikiforov seemed to be able to have any thing or any person he wanted, with no guilt and no struggle. Not that was visible to an outside observer, anyway. Even one invited to his intimate gatherings.

If the General ever had any qualms or reservations about his interest in men, Otabek assumed he’d found some very practical way to exorcise them from his mind. Otabek could think of a single line from the scriptures on the topic. And yet how many passages were there about peace, generosity, compassion...about not killing one another? Nikiforov was the most famous and celebrated person Otabek knew, and it was precisely through killing and subjugating people that he’d earned his station. _Well, after killing a few thousand people, what’s lying with a few men here and there?_

Otabek was torn over his own profession. He sensed that he might never bring himself to use any of his own weapons, something he never admitted to his colleagues. He loved his grandmother's stories of heroes from the past, but he had no desire to be a soldier, and he found no honor in duels. He'd gone hunting before, and found it more or less within the natural order of things, though not particularly exciting. He sometimes wondered how many deaths he’d been indirectly responsible for. He rolled onto his back, still holding the pillow to his chest, and imagined running his hands through his companion’s long hair. _I suppose there are plenty of other things I could go to hell for besides this,_ Otabek thought. 

Otabek didn’t consider himself a religious man. His ancestors were Muslims, he’d been raised by an Orthodox nun, and mentored by a Jew, and none of them, in his opinion, had what felt like the whole story. Still, he didn’t want to be someone who gave up entirely on a virtuous life. In his mind, he was a servant of an empire of death. Perhaps all people were, and all empires were organized as such. He felt he owed his life to one woman who had taken her charge literally and seriously. _If only the Gulnazes of the world could be the ones in charge, what a paradise we’d have then._

The house was quiet. Breakfast would be late and leisurely; there was no need to hurry to get dressed. Otabek stretched out in bed, still fantasizing about the beautiful young man from his dream. His body still felt achy and dull from alcohol. As much as he wanted to devour him in the way he’d watched the General ravish his prey in the bathhouse, he also wanted to simply wake up with someone. He wanted someone to enjoy the lazy, tranquil morning with. 

He searched hard to remember more of the dreams. They had been so lovely, but also a painful reminder of what he didn’t have. Sitting across from Aruzhan, he confessed how alone he felt all the time. As children, at least, they’d always had each other. Otabek always thought he should have moved on and grown up, but there was still something so tender and raw about her absence. He never truly felt as though he’d seen eye to eye with anyone since. Some part of him had been sealed off, and Otabek wasn’t sure he was willing to re-open it. 

The Rivkens were kind and lovely people, but Matvei was a mad genius. His life was so packed with teaching, building, and with running his shop that he would hardly have had time for a wife and children, even if he’d wanted to marry again. Otabek assumed he would take after Matvei in that way. He struggled to imagine himself as a father. He liked his work, mostly. But it didn’t successfully distract him from how painfully alone he was. 

_But the figure from my dream… he seemed worried about me, like he was trying to take care of me in some way._ Otabek sighed. He wanted the young man to lie down on his chest, he wanted to let his hands drift down the man’s back…

His back. It was covered in a raised pattern and it glowed. He had spirals of light going down his back. Otabek was suddenly struck with the strangeness of it all. Then he remembered the doll in Mila’s salon.

 _It must just be the power of suggestion,_ he thought. _I was playing Kazakh music for Mila, so of course I thought of my sister. And the doll, well, that’s a strange image. I suppose I liked his scant outfit. No wonder my mind stuck it on a man my age..._

He got out of bed and got dressed, he slipped on a long, gray cardigan over his shirt and trousers, and stepped into a pair of dark blue velvet slippers that Mila had given him. 

Otabek was ready to write off the dream as nothing but fantasy, just the product of a lonely man’s imagination, until he looked back at the bed as he was about to walk out the door. A sudden insight washed over him. He’d seen himself. He remembered seeing his body, lying still like a doll on the bed, attached to him by a silver thread. He had left his body. He was sure of it. 

It chilled him. 

Perhaps not all of what he saw was completely real. But he was certain that at least some of it was.

☙

_I don’t know how much more of this I can handle,_ Yuri thought. _Maybe I will just expire. Maybe I will go completely crazy, and that will be the thing that kills me._ He imagined his frustration becoming so great that it would sever the silver cord completely. _Is that how you meant to kill me, Kerebos? Drive me as raving mad as you are?!_

The astral smoke had mostly lifted from the house, but Yuri still sensed a touch of it. It was nothing like the taverns in the village, covered in a heavy layer of it that would never leave. Yuri prayed that it hadn’t gotten to Otabek and that it wouldn’t dull or contaminate his memory. 

Mila opened the glass case in the salon to put the Japanese doll inside. She nudged Yuri just slightly as she rearranged her collection around her new prize. But now, Yuri could see into the dining room.

_How much more of this useless blabbering do I have to listen to? At least the Italian one has a pleasant voice, if this is going to be the last thing I hear before I die!_

Mila, Sara, and Anya sat talking and drinking tea, enjoying the peace before the others woke up. They all wore the colorful yukata robes they’d been given the night before. When Otabek walked in, he looked tired, but more comfortable than he’d been in his suit. He had a little darkness under his eyes. Yuri preferred him in his open shirt and vest. _What a shame that humans get so cold and have to cover up all the time._ Yuri ached to not be able to get his attention. _Otabek, please_ , _don’t forget about me..._

“Am I intruding?” he asked.

“No, please, have a seat.” Mila gave him a peck on the cheek, and he joined them at the table. 

Yuri wished he could throw his arms around Otabek’s neck again, and sit on his lap. Or even just lounge about as the tiny light on his shoulder. It was every bit as good as sitting on his favorite branch above the lake.

“How terribly unfair,” Otabek said. “You all look fresh as roses, while I feel like I’ve been hit in the face with a frying pan.” He poured himself a cup of tea. “It’s almost like you hardly had anything to drink last night at all.” He grinned at Mila and she winked at him.

_Please, Otabek...remember what I told you!_

“Well, you are the first gentleman awake, that’s saying something,” Mila said. “I didn’t think anyone would out-drink the General and wake up first. He’ll be impressed, you know. He’ll insist you match him shot for shot from here on out.”

Otabek’s face looked greenish at the thought. “Did I really…”

The women laughed. “Oh, who knows?” Anya asked. “I can barely remember who had what. I’m just awake because I’m a light sleeper, anyway.”

“I can’t help but feel like I’m interrupting something,” Otabek said. 

Mila shrugged. “Oh, we were just talking about everyone else,” she said. “As we often do.” She sipped her tea. “I was just thinking we should have had you play something last night.”

Otabek shook his head. “No, no. Your friends are the real musicians.”

Mila rolled her eyes. 

“Perhaps after a few months of lessons, I’d produce something that wouldn’t make them cringe,” Otabek said. 

Mila crossed her arms. “Well I rather liked what you played for me yesterday, so I’d warn you not to insult my taste.”

“What do you play, Otabek?” Sara asked. Her voice reminded Yuri of flower fairies he’d met when he was little. They were the ones who made him his silver crown. But that didn’t mean he liked this woman. No, of course not. 

“Just folk tunes from memory. On the piano.” He looked embarrassed to Yuri, and it made him angry. 

_Hey, I liked that music, too! What do you mean it’s ‘just’ folk music? It’s beautiful!_

“I had the strangest dream last night,” Otabek said.

“Who wouldn’t, after that foreign concoction?” Mila asked. But Anya looked suddenly skeptical and said nothing.

“I saw my sister,” Otabek said. “And she taught me a song I’d never heard before.”

“I didn’t realize you had a sister,” Sara said. “Does she live with you in Saint Petersburg?”

“No...she passed away some years ago,” Otabek said softly. Sara pressed her fingertips to her lips. “Which is what makes it even stranger.” 

“Can you play it?” Mila asked. “The song you heard?”

“I can try it.” Otabek sat down at the piano and looked flustered for a moment. He picked out a few keys. Then, the melody emerged. Simple at first, then it evolved into something more intricate and lush, bringing with it the gold rays that surrounded Aruzhan. He played for a few minutes, the core melody picking up more and more detailed parts, and changing slightly every few measures until it was a different central melody all together. Otabek finished with the original first few bars. 

_That’s it!_ Yuri thought. _That’s it exactly! When you play it, it sounds even better! Now if you could just remember the_ rest _of the dream…_ This was agony. Otabek glanced at the doll case. The room was silent for a moment. 

“You heard that in a dream?” Anya asked, her voice thin.

“I’m going to start giving you saké every night that you visit and see what you come up with in the morning!” Mila said with a wide grin. 

“So, what do you think? Any new parts come to mind for you?” Otabek asked Mila.

She shook her head. “No, it doesn’t need it,” she said. “But if you’ll play it for me again, I’ll write it down for you.”

“I’d love to have it,” Otabek said. 

“Play it again for me this afternoon, so I can get familiar with it,” Mila said.

“I’d be happy to,” Otabek said. One more glance in Yuri’s direction as he sat back down at the table.

 _Even if I weren’t under this curse...I’d still want to see him again! If he could just remember me, what would he say?_ Yuri wondered if anything could possibly make being trapped in the doll worse. He had never wanted someone’s attention so badly. He was afraid of what Lilia and his grandfather would say, afraid that they might find his absence unforgivable and cast him out of the grove. Or were they worried about him, searching for him somewhere? What if Lilia had gone to confront Kerebos? Would he have cursed her, too? Burned her to ash with his dragon’s fire?

Worrying about the other elementals was bad enough. Then there was this unfairly beautiful human that Yuri didn’t want to take his eyes off of. 

“I also dreamed I met a witch doctor of some kind,” Otabek said as he sat back down at the table. “I think I saw more last night than I have in the last ten years. It was truly strange. He was dressed like that doll you found,” he said to Mila. “Tunic, crown, and all.”

Anya had a stern expression on her face. She glared at the doll case, and Mila laughed. “Oh, Anya, are you still convinced it’s a thing of evil?”

“I just don’t like it,” Anya said.

“Doesn’t our Otabek look unusually chipper this morning for a man who out-drank the General?” Mila asked. “Perhaps a bit of witchcraft did him some good.”

Anya scowled. “Well, I’m sure I don’t know anything about _witches_ ,” she said, “but I have _heard_ that their custom is to ply people with gifts and healings in order to gain their trust. And then God knows what they do with them!”

Yuri could have screamed. _Anya, you heathen bitch! You aren’t worried about Otabek at all, you’re just trying to keep everyone’s eyes off of you, aren’t you?_

“In any case, it was just a dream,” Otabek said. “Nothing worth getting upset about. Just an interesting coincidence.” He glanced at Yuri.

_What? Do you really believe that? Or are you just saying that to keep the peace?_

They dropped the subject when Christophe strode into the room, in his red and purple yukata. “Good morning, ladies. And Otabek, my, I didn’t expect to see you up so early.” He took his seat, and a maid in a black dress brought out trays of scones and a silver pot of coffee. “You drank like you had something you wanted to forget.”

Otabek laughed. “Well, if I did, it seems to have worked.”

_No, Beka, don’t joke about that!_

“I figured the General would be awake by now,” Christophe said. 

“Absolutely not,” Mila said. “Don’t you think he and his sleeping beauty will take their time until lunch?” she asked. Sara suppressed a little laugh, and Anya rolled her eyes.

“I might have guessed the same about you,” Christophe said. 

Mila took a long sip of her tea. “Well, the next time the General hosts, I’ll be sure to sleep as late as I please.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure he’d be more than happy to return the favor.”

Sara bit her lip and reached for a scone. The cat, Potya, wandered in. Christophe wiggled his fingers and made a little clicking noise with his mouth. Potya jumped up into his lap. 

_Potya!_ Yuri thought. _Hey! Can’t you get them to look at me? Hey, Potya!_

“We really must do this more often,” Christophe said. He poured cream into his coffee and ran his fingers through the cat’s thick fur.

“I agree!” Mila said. “All the misfits of Saint Petersburg.” She sighed. “I suppose our kind has to stick together.” 

“Well I always have a lovely time with you,” Sara said, a little starry-eyed. “I wonder if I can convince Mickey to let me stay one more night.”

Christophe and Otabek glanced at each other. _Wait a second_ , Yuri thought, _is he not leaving until tomorrow?_ He could have melted with relief to have one more chance to talk to Otabek.

But the wait until nightfall was grueling. _Potya, I think I’m going insane_ , Yuri said silently.

Potya formed an image of Otabek dressed in his Kazakh clothes, the way his astral body had looked. 

_Yes, I did meet him last night_ , Yuri said. _Out of all of them,_ _he’s the only one who can help me. Or the only one who will._

Potya sent an image of the General and Katsuki mid-coitus. 

_What?! No, I didn’t do that with him!_ Embarrassment engulfed Yuri like flames. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. Or that he hadn’t wondered about it. It just seemed rather early, and feeling interested in humans at all was still an alien concept in Yuri’s world. Was his attraction to Otabek that obvious, even to the cat?

The cat looked at him with narrow eyes from Christophe’s lap. 

_What’s that? A lot of that happens in this house? Potya, you creep. Huh? You saw me with him? But I didn’t even see you at all!_

From time to time, couples from the village would sneak off to the lake. Yuri always waited impatiently for them to leave, furious at the intrusion. But now, he felt slightly more empathetic to their plight.

He could feel Potya’s laughter from the dining room. 

_What? No, I am not agreeing with the humans, Potya. No, I never said I liked them. Only Otabek. There’s a difference!_

Potya formed images of undines lying in the sun, salamanders copulating in a bonfire. 

_You’re not helping, Potya!_ Yuri watched Otabek drink his tea and talk to the others. He moved as if he were wearing something heavy, like something was pressing down on his shoulders, and Yuri couldn’t understand why. 

☙

Yuri endured the sound of the gossipy cooks, many games of cards played in the salon, and Sara attempting to play a lute from Mila’s wall with varying degrees of success. When Otabek played Aruzhan’s song again, the salon filled with light, and Potya continued to tease Yuri about his fixation on Otabek.

When Otabek got back from a long ride through the property with Mila, Katsuki, and the General, the four of them left for their rooms to change clothes before coming back down for afternoon cocktails with the others. Yuri braced himself for the return of the black leaves. He overheard Sara arguing with her brother while the others changed. The French language still bothered him. All he could discern at first was anger.

“Mickey, I’ll be absolutely fine! What are you worried about? I can take a carriage back to the embassy tomorrow with the General, or with Otabek or Christophe--”

“You would ride in a carriage alone with another man?!” Michele was incensed. 

“Yes!” Sara shouted. “I would! Because these are my friends, Mickey! I like them, and I like spending time with them. It hurts me, Mickey, that you don’t trust them, and that you don’t trust me! You treat me like I’m a child, and you act like they’re some kind of monsters--”

“But Sara--”

“I can’t believe you call yourself a diplomat,” Sara huffed. “You could try being more diplomatic with your own family!”

Then, Yuri was surprised to hear Otabek’s voice as he walked back in with Chrisophe, and he strained to understand the words. 

“Well, you aren’t completely wrong, Michele,” Otabek said dryly. “Some of us _are_ monsters. The General is, without question. This one too.” He pointed to Christophe. “But if you’re worried about your sister’s honor, let me assure you, Christophe and I are the kind of monsters who are far more likely to end up in the General’s bed or each other’s than in your sister’s.”

Sara, Christophe, and Viktor all cracked with laughter. “Beka!” Sara squeaked. “It’s not like you to be so forward.”

“Ah, but it is like him to be honest,” Viktor said. “Michele, you’re an upstanding man, you value honesty, don’t you?”

“Well, yes--”

“You may find us distasteful, my dear Crispino, but we are never dishonest,” Viktor said with a wink. “Besides, it’s rare that I meet someone as intelligent as your sister. I must say it surprises me that you don’t trust her discernment more.”

Yuri sensed an anxious flailing coming from Michele. _What did Otabek say to make him sound so fearful?_ Yuri wondered. He guessed it didn’t matter, as long as Otabek was still staying that night. 

That evening’s soiree was much more casual. As soon as the sun set, Yuri leapt out of the doll and sat on Otabek’s shoulder at the dinner table. Then, he changed his mind: he decided he’d have a much better view sitting on Sara’s shoulder, and flitted over to her. Sara flinched and looked around the room.

“Are you all right?” Mila asked.

“I thought I saw something,” Sara said. “I’m not sure.” She smiled. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

 _She saw something?_ Yuri felt nervous. Some people could sense the presence of fairies in their small forms, but not many. But to see his astral body? Yuri wasn’t sure even Anya could do that. He looked in her direction. She seemed completely absorbed in the meal and conversation. 

Yuri leaned against one of the pearls from Sara’s necklace, and contemplated Otabek. He could see the faintest outlines of more black leaves forming on his skin, and it made his heart sink. It was bizarre to Yuri; Otabek laughed and smiled more, the more he drank, but as one side of him opened up, the rest of him seemed to shut down. Yuri wanted to see him smile, he liked Otabek’s smile and the sound of his laughter, but fear still ate at him. _How much more time am I going to lose to those stupid leaves? Maybe I can stretch the time out in the dream space. But what if I can’t?_ _Otabek, please, can’t you give it a rest?_

He didn’t. 

When the ladies had retired for the evening, the General served a round of shots of vodka to Otabek, Christophe, and Katsuki. They sat around a low coffee table in the salon playing a tedious game of cards and dice that Yuri didn’t have the patience to follow. The conversation was all in French, presumably for Katsuki’s benefit.

Then Yuri noticed something strange in the corner of the room. The cat was asleep, and his astral body emerged. But the figure that stood up was enormous; a massive wildcat covered in wavy stripes, with a scorpion’s tail.

 _So_ that’s _how Potya sees himself!_ Yuri almost fell off of Otabek’s shoulder with laughter. _How did I miss this creature roaming about the house?_ Yuri floated into the corner next to Potya, clicked his fingers, and stood up. The huge cat rubbed his flank against Yuri’s leg, just as the house cat would. 

“Tell me, Potya, you don’t happen to have any venom in that tail of yours that can break curses?” 

The cat shook his head slowly. 

“Forty hells,” Yuri muttered. He sat down next to the tiger-scorpion and ran his astral hand through Potya’s astral fur. Potya the chimera had a purr that resonated throughout Yuri’s entire being. Supremely calming. Yuri wrapped his arms around Potya’s neck and leaned his head against him. 

“Do you think maybe I’m being too hard on him, Potya?” Yuri watched the men playing cards. The astral smoke swirled about their feet and climbed up the walls. But maybe it was just that, Yuri thought. Nothing more harmful than smoke. Just a by-product of the artificial fire within the alcohol. “Does it really do anything other than slow them down? The others all seemed normal, just tired.”

Potya conjured images of some of the servants’ quarters and the late Count Babichev’s room, all coated in the black leaves. 

“I see. So a little won’t kill them. But too much sticks around and never leaves.” Yuri sighed. The four men looked happy. They were all laughing, at least. “Being human seems like such a dreadful fate,” Yuri said. He had everything he needed from the forest, and hardly needed to eat or drink water, kept alive by the sun and the primal elemental force of the snow. “I guess I can’t blame them if they want a distraction every now and then, can I? Maybe being trapped in all their stupid customs is as bad for them as me being trapped in that horrid doll.”

Potya’s deep, rumbling purr rippled through the smoke. As it did, Yuri saw a tiny black leaf fall off of Otabek’s face. 

“God damn it, Potya! What is wrong with me? I really am going mad! I’ve never cared about humans in my life!”

The giant cat nuzzled Yuri’s face. He sent an image of Yuri dressed in human clothes, with his hair tied into a low ponytail, in a dark purple vest with a swirling acanthus pattern embroidered onto it.

“What? I don’t get what you mean.” Yuri watched the men again. “God, this is terrible.” His eyes started to tear up. He sank forward and wrapped his arms around his knees. “I know I still need his help and everything, but when I look at him, I just think that I want him to be happy.” Then he grit his teeth and clenched his fists. “Well, even if something bad happened to him, I’m sure I wouldn’t scream and whine about it like that worthless bastard Kerebos!” He stood back up.

“I’ve had all of this I can take, Potya. I’m going to go stretch my wings and look at the moon.” 

Yuri levitated up to the roof to look at the sky.

☙

  
  


At the card table, everything was golden for Otabek. He could say anything, and absolutely everything was funny. Then, as he shuffled back to his room, he crossed the line from euphoria into nausea. By the time he opened the door, everything in the room was shifting slightly to the left. A maid had left a silver pitcher of cold water and a crystal glass on the night table. Otabek downed almost the entire thing. He didn’t bother with putting on night clothes; he threw his clothes over the back of a chair and collapsed into bed naked. Otabek assumed he’d cheated fate that morning. He fully expected to feel like death the next day. Sleep claimed him quickly, but as it did, he had only one thing on his mind: he wanted to see the young man in white again.

After a short while, Otabek’s spectre lifted out of his physical body and wandered out into the garden, enchanted by the wealth of stars. He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not. He didn’t care. The sky glittered, and he felt free. Outside, his thoughts swirled about in a happy oblivion. His perception was still a little fuzzy, but it was undoubtedly a beautiful night, and there was a sense that anything could happen. He noticed an animal walk past: a tiger with the tail of a giant scorpion. _Maybe I_ am _dreaming_ , he thought. He felt an impulse to talk to it. 

“Excuse me,” he said. “I’m looking for a young man in a white tunic, with long blonde hair. Have you seen him?” 

The tiger tilted his head toward the roof, then sauntered off into the woods. Otabek turned around and saw a bright figure leaning against a chimney, looking at the sky. _There he is!_

“Yuri!” Otabek shouted. He raised up his hands.

Yuri stood up. The moon shined through his wings like light through a kaleidoscope, with Yuri’s silhouette in the center. Yuri stepped off the edge of the roof and drifted silently down to meet Otabek. There was no reason to catch him, but Otabek did anyway. 

“My bright star! I hoped you would come back. You look like an angel.” He gripped Yuri’s waist and kissed him as his feet touched the ground. Yuri wrapped his arms around Otabek’s shoulders. He was a shy kisser, Otabek thought, but he liked it; it made him feel less anxious about his own lack of experience. 

He pulled Yuri closer, and Yuri placed his hand on the back of Otabek’s neck. The light around them glowed blue through Yuri’s wings, like stained glass. This was the perfect state to be in, Otabek thought, where kissing a relative stranger was no more unusual than seeing a chimera tiger walk past. 

After a few moments, Yuri drew back and sighed heavily. His wings hung limp down his back, and he rested his forehead to Otabek’s collarbone.

“Yuri? What’s wrong?” Otabek kissed the top of Yuri’s head. 

Yuri looked up; he touched the side of Otabek’s face and bit his lip. Otabek suddenly became aware of the leaves. A flash of insight, memory from the night before. 

“I made a mistake, didn’t I?” Otabek whispered. Yuri shook his head, but Otabek wasn’t convinced. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It was way too much, wasn’t it?”

Yuri started to speak, but stopped himself. He sat down on a low stone wall nearby that formed the edge of a long, still reflecting pool, and let his wings vanish into his back. The fountain at the far end of the pool was shut off for the night, and the only sound came from the wind rustling the leaves, and a faint sparkle of crickets. 

Otabek sat down next to Yuri. “That was selfish of me,” he said. “To make you go through all this trouble again. But I was afraid that if I didn’t drink anything, I might not see you.” He felt a wave of shame press into him.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Yuri said. “I would have come to find you anyways.” He sighed again. “Maybe it’s for the best. This way I found you easily. If not for the leaves, who knows where you would have gone off to? At least with all this mess stuck to you, you can’t fly off somewhere and leave me.” Yuri smiled faintly. Otabek seized his chance. He took Yuri’s face in his hands and kissed him again, first his forehead and then his mouth. Yuri pressed his palm lightly to Otabek’s chest. 

Otabek drew back and held Yuri’s wrist. “I’ll stop. I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s not it!” Yuri said. “If I didn’t want you to kiss me, I’d tell you. Or just...push you into the pool, or something like that.”

Otabek laughed, but on the inside, he cracked with relief. 

“The problem is, I need you to remember me,” Yuri said. He grabbed the edges of Otabek’s vest and hung his head. He started to tremble slightly, and Otabek realized he was trying not to cry. “In the morning...I need you to remember who I am, and I need you to come find me.” Yuri let Otabek go, and clamped his hand over his face. Otabek saw a few bright tears spill through his fingers. “I need your help, that’s why I came looking for you last night--”

“I can’t help you if I’m like this, can I?” Otabek asked. He held Yuri’s shoulders.

“I don’t know,” Yuri said. His eyes looked dim. 

“Here,” Otabek said. He pulled off his shirt and vest. “Do whatever you want with me!” 

Yuri roared out a sudden laugh that neither of them expected. 

“I’ll do whatever I can to help you!” Otabek said. The last thing he’d wanted to do was make Yuri cry, but seeing him smile again made him hopeful.

Yuri gave him a mischievous grin. “Oh, really? Anything, you say?” He wiped his eyes with the back of his forearm and climbed into Otabek’s lap. “Well, the first thing I need is for you to remember me. So I’m afraid I have to do this one more time.” He looked at Otabek’s neck and began to tear away the first of the leaves. 

Otabek winced; it stung his astral skin. The sting of sobriety. 

Yuri drew back. “Does it hurt?” 

“No,” Otabek said. “Not any more than it should, anyways.” 

Yuri kissed the spot where he pulled the leaf away. Yuri did this each time he took one off. Then he crumbled each leaf into dust and scattered it to the astral winds. 

When Yuri finished, Otabek’s entire astral body felt like it was buzzing. Then, he felt light and clear again, and he understood for certain that he was dreaming. He started to lie back along the wide, low wall. “Yuri…” 

Yuri obliged and lay down with him, on top of his chest. Otabek understood that he and Yuri were simply projections. But he still felt the weight of Yuri’s body as if it were real, and it made him feel calm. He slipped his hands through Yuri’s tunic and slowly traced the pattern on Yuri’s skin with his fingertips. Without the haze of alcohol on him, he no longer felt brazen and impulsive. Instead, a feeling of clarity and peace spread through him. 

_If only I could feel like this when I’m awake. I could never do this in my normal life_ , Otabek thought. _I never approach anyone unless I’m horribly drunk. I never get close to anyone._ He ran his fingers through Yuri’s astral hair. He wondered what it must feel like in real life.

Then Otabek’s dream became even more lucid. Real life? This was real, it just wasn’t physical...

He turned his head to the side, now able to perceive the glimmering thread that connected him to his body. Another one ran nearly parallel to it, leading from the center of Yuri’s chest. 

Was Yuri’s body also in the house?

“Yuri…” Otabek whispered, “What was it exactly that you said you needed help with?”

Yuri slipped his arms underneath the small of Otabek’s back and clutched himself closer to him. Otabek felt an astral tear fall onto his chest.


	7. Chapter 7

Yuri didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to keep lying with Otabek, and then go back to experimenting with the strange human activity called kissing, that made him feel lit up from within. 

Yuri thought the bitterness he harbored toward Kerebos might consume him. It felt like a wire holding his jaw shut, still paralyzing him, despite his astral body being free. Yuri simply didn’t know what to say. It shocked him, after days of seething with anger and waiting for this moment to speak. 

Kerebos said that the way to break the curse was finding ‘true love,’ but that Yuri would never find it. This left Yuri deeply confused. Was the curse supposed to be unbreakable, a death sentence? Some curses could be removed, if not broken outright. Some could be weakened, and some weakened on their own over time. Some would vanish if the one who cast the curse perished. But Yuri struggled to imagine sending Otabek to kill Kerebos. And the thought of Kerebos bringing any harm to Otabek made his insides twist up with rage. 

Kerebos was crying his eyes out over a human that he loved. Then he yelled at Yuri that he would never find love. _Well,_ _do I have to scream and cry like a wounded animal the way Kerebos did to get this stupid curse to break?_

What would happen, Yuri wondered, if Kerebos somehow got a hold of Otabek? Yuri saw himself slipping from his divine appointment to serve nature and taking up black magic, orchestrating his revenge. He felt something inside him crack, like the surface of the frozen lake breaking as it thawed.

Otabek ran his hand over Yuri’s hair. “Yuri...aren’t you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Yuri flinched and sat up, staring at the ground; Otabek sat next to him and wrapped his arm around Yuri’s waist. Yuri fought the urge to scream, to rail against Kerebos in front of Otabek. He didn’t want to mention the ‘love’ part, either, in case there was any chance of it pushing Otabek away.

Yuri grit his teeth, then finally spoke. “Your friend seems to think I’m a witch,” he said, trying to stop himself from shaking. “But I’m not. You were right about me, I’m a fairy. Or more specifically, I’m an ice elemental. I live in nature and I take care of it.”

“I was right?”

Yuri pointed to the silver thread that led to the salon. “Yes. When you picked up the doll and noticed the pattern on the back.”

Otabek’s eyes widened. 

“I’m not a witch, but a witch did this to me.” Yuri wished he could call on the salamanders to help him manage his burning fury. He tried to speak calmly. “He was defiling my grove, and when I confronted him, he turned my physical body into that doll. I’m trapped inside of it, but only during the daylight. After nightfall, I can move about like this.” Yuri looked at his hands, his face pinched into a scowl. “Normally I look more or less like this. I can look human when I need to, it’s not hard. A lot of elementals can. But my real form looks like this.” Yuri clicked his fingers and hovered in the air in front of Otabek as the tiny light.

Otabek reached out his hand, and Yuri landed on it. “I see,” he said. “You look just like a snowflake.”

For a moment, Yuri studied Otabek’s reaction. He seemed curious, delighted. But not surprised. Humans accepted all kinds of things in dreams that clashed with their ordinary reality, but it wasn’t always clear why. Sometimes the dream space carried the dreamer along gently, like a river. But sometimes it was because the dreamer was already familiar with other realms, and they’d simply forgotten.

Yuri wondered if Otabek could see elementals as a child.

He clicked his fingers again and stood up, sighing and hanging his head. The silver garland tumbled off and landed on the ground with a silent clang that only astral beings could hear. Otabek picked it up and put it back on him. Yuri smirked, in spite of himself. 

“Thanks,” Yuri said. Otabek just smiled. But Yuri’s face suddenly fell again. Someone had heard the clang and was approaching. Anya. She was nearby. Yuri didn’t want to risk being seen with Otabek. If Anya destroyed the doll…

“Otabek, someone’s coming! Quick, we have to go! Come with me!” Yuri grabbed Otabek’s hand and pulled him toward the edge of the woods.

“Whisking me away again? Where are you taking me this time?”

Yuri felt furious. He burned to tell Otabek about Anya. “There’s more than one witch in this area. Not all of them are evil, but few of them are good. Please, Otabek, just come with me!”

Otabek ran with him until they were out of sight of the house. Then, in the dense darkness of the woods, he kissed Yuri against the trunk of an enormous, ancient fir tree.

“You don’t have to ask me twice, you know,” he said, straightening out the lopsided crown on Yuri’s head. “The last time I followed you I ended up somewhere so divine I would have happily stayed and never woken up.” He sighed and brushed Yuri’s hair back off of his shoulders. “It makes me wonder, though, what these witches have against you. Were they trying to steal your secrets?”

Yuri shook his head. “I don’t know anything more about traveling in dreams than they do. Besides, all I did was create the portal. You’re the one that made it open.”

“Now that I think about it, there’s really no way for me to know you aren’t a witch, is there?” Otabek rested one hand on Yuri’s shoulder and the other on his hip. Yuri’s eyes were wide.

“What? But I told you, I’m not! And even if I were, I wouldn’t have any reason to hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t?” Otabek kissed the side of Yuri’s neck. “And how do I know you aren’t some incubus that likes to prey on men instead of women? Or maybe both?”

Otabek kissed his collarbone, but Yuri’s eyes glazed over in despair. “Oh gods. There’s no way for me to convince you, is there?”

“Well, perhaps I wanted to meet an incubus, and I’m in luck this evening, aren’t I?” Otabek said, grinning. “But forgive me, Yuri. I’m mostly joking. It’s just that you’ve looked so miserably worried each time I’ve seen you, I felt compelled to tease you--”

“Well wouldn’t you be worried if you were in my position?!” Yuri growled, still fighting the urge to scream. He pressed Otabek away from him. Otabek let his arms drop lightly to Yuri’s waist.

“I would,” he said softly.

But Yuri still sneered. He gripped Otabek’s shoulders. “Haven’t you ever been trapped in some situation you couldn’t get out of?”

Otabek was pensive for a moment. “Sure I have. When I’m awake...every day is like living in a kind of vice.” He drew himself closer. “I feel like a shadow. I’m nothing like I am here. Here I can tell you anything I think. Anything I want. To do that in normal life, I have to binge on fire water first, and you’ve seen what that does to me.” He wrapped his arms around Yuri’s back. “So in some ways, it’s not so difficult for me to imagine your curse. Being stuck, looking at the world passing by around you, but not being able to say anything...well, that feeling isn’t terribly unfamiliar. I still want to help you, Yuri. I meant what I said. You do know that, don’t you?” 

Yuri slouched against Otabek, acquiescing to the hug. 

“But if you are telling the truth,” Otabek twirled a lock of Yuri’s hair around his finger, “and this kind of cruel magic is real, then don’t you think I’d want to protect myself from it as well? And see what I’m up against?”

Yuri’s body went rigid. “Hey, I’m trying to help you too, you know!” he hissed. “If you were still covered in those leaves, you’d be a sitting duck if a witch tried to cast something on you!”

Then Yuri heard the low sweep of huge, astral wings nearby. The dragon was flying. Yuri clung to Otabek again.

“Yuri?”

Yuri shook his head. “Look,” he whispered, letting his lips graze Otabek’s ear, “It’s not normal for a human to wander around in the physical world outside their body.” He glanced above them, listening for the dragon’s wings again. “Very few people can do it on purpose, it’s something you almost always have to have taught to you. And there aren’t many practical reasons for it,” Yuri said, “unless you’re doing some sort of magic. And magic that can’t be done in the daylight is almost always suspect.” He held the back of Otabek’s head as he spoke. “Most humans only roam about outside their bodies like that if they’re sick, or lost.” He rested his temple to Otabek’s. “And that makes you susceptible to all kinds of influences, any kind of strange magic you might encounter. You’re only really safe if you stay close to your body, or if you enter a dream realm.”

Yuri could feel Otabek smile against his cheek. “You’re not making a very good case for yourself, Yuri,” he whispered. “When I met you, you were wandering about yourself.”

_ God, why is he testing me like this? _ Yuri sank his forehead into Otabek’s shoulder. 

Otabek rubbed Yuri’s back in slow circles. “I only joke about it because part of me wishes you were a witch,” he said. “Maybe you could cast some spell on me. My waking life feels dull and stilted. I’d rather be in some pleasant dream that never ends.”

That sentiment felt completely wrong to Yuri. No, the point of dreaming wasn’t to stay asleep forever. According to Lilia, the point of dreaming was to become more awakened than ever. But what exactly had she meant by that?

Another low swoop overhead. “Yuri, what was that sound?”

“Something evil,” Yuri said. “Beka, we should get out of here.”

“Will you open one of those luminous doors for me again?”

Yuri shook his head. “If I do, that horrible creature will see us,” he said. “It gives off too much light. But there’s another way to travel. Beka, have you ever heard of the Tree of Life?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Owls called to each other in the distance, and a breeze rustled the fir tree’s fluffy branches. 

“If I open a portal, I can choose where I want to go, for the most part,” Yuri said. “But if you follow the Tree of Life, it chooses for you. It knows what you most need to see, so that’s where it takes you. Almost every creature that dreams travels by way of the Tree of Life.”

Far in the distance, Yuri spotted two glowing eyes. Kerebos.  _ Don’t come this way...leave us alone, you monster! _

“Beka, if you ever get lost while you’re outside your body, you can always call on the Tree of Life to take you somewhere safe until you wake up.”

“And how do I do that?” Otabek asked. “If I go, will you come with me?”

“I will if you hold onto me,” Yuri said. “Listen,” he started to feel numb with worry at the approaching eyes. “It’s better if you can find a real tree to help you. The Tree of Life is an archetypal tree. It isn’t physical, it’s a concept. So anything that looks like a tree will help you reach it. But,” he let his cheek touch Otabek’s jaw, “if you get stuck, you have a tree within you that you can call on. It’s within your spine,” he said.

“What a strange lesson,” Otabek said. “But I’m listening.”

“Actually, there are lots of reflections of trees inside the human body. The nerves, the lungs, the veins...you can use any of it to call on the Tree, you just have to feel it. You’ve probably done it hundreds of times, but you don’t remember,” Yuri said.

“I’m not sure about that. I can barely remember my dreams.”

The glowing eyes blinked.

“We should go,” Yuri said. “Quick, all you have to do is ask it to take you! If you’re holding onto me, then I’ll go with you.”

An unmistakable sound of astral footsteps was approaching.

“Beka, please, let’s go!”

Otabek kissed him, and the two astral figures vanished.

❄

_ Good evening. You have reached the Tree of Life. _ The voice that spoke was everywhere and nowhere.  _ To return to your body, step backward _ , it said.  _ To continue, step forward. Guides are standing by if you need assistance.  _

Otabek felt his astral hand holding someone else’s. Yuri…

He stepped forward.

For an instant, he was deep underground. Otabek felt the nerves and veins of his astral body light up suddenly, surrounded by a deep darkness, as if they were roots. Black earth surrounded him, packed with richness. Or was it a sky? Or water? 

When he opened his eyes, he stood in a misty valley. Yuri was with him, wearing a dark blue tunic bordered in heavy silver embroidery. Instead of the gold spirals on the edges of Otabek’s vest, Yuri’s tunic had a pointed, angular pattern. He still had the crown of leaves on his head, and wore no shoes.

“Where are we?” Otabek asked.

Yuri shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s your dream. I like the trees here, though.” He looked around.

Otabek caught a whiff of tobacco. “My father was here,” he said.

“How do you know? I don’t see anyone.” 

“I can just tell,” Otabek said. “I’m not sure how I know, I just do. It feels like this place belongs to him, somehow.”

They walked farther into the valley when Otabek spotted what looked like a horse drinking from a stream. It had a brilliant blue coat and giant wings made of colorful feathers, like a macaw’s. 

Yuri crossed his arms and stared at the creature. “Well that’s weird. Never met one of these bird-horses before.” The horse glanced at Yuri as though taking offense. 

Otabek approached the creature slowly. “It’s called a pegasus,” he said. He reached out his hand to let the creature sniff him and gently introduce himself, but the horse stared Yuri down, stretching out his massive, rainbow wings. “Yuri?”

Yuri grit his teeth, his own wings stretched out, in a kind of standoff with the horse.

“Hey, calm down,” Otabek said to both of them. “There’s no reason for you to be mad at each other.” He lightly patted the pegasus’s neck and stroked the side of his face. An insight came to him. “Ah, he thinks you don’t belong here, Yuri,” Otabek said. “Since it’s my dream.”

Yuri crossed his arms. “Well if you don’t like it, take it up with the Tree of Life! It brought me here, so deal with it!”

“Yuri, don’t be snide, he’s just protecting his territory,” Otabek said. The horse snorted and stamped his hoof against the ground. “Oh, I see. It’s because of the curse that’s on you. He can smell it.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. 

“But if he can sense it, then I suppose that must mean it’s real,” Otabek said.

“What? Did you not believe me before?” Yuri looked nonplussed.

“No, of course I did,” Otabek said. “I mean--”

“Oh, sure. Believe the bird-horse, and not me! Some help you are!” Yuri kicked a rock into the stream, and the pegasus grunted angrily.

“Yuri, look, just be glad that there’s no doubt, all right? Now I know for certain what I’m dealing with. I told you, I’m serious about helping you. Maybe that was the reason we were brought here, so he could confirm what was really happening to you.” He continued to stroke the horse’s side. “I’m sure to him you don’t look much different from that witch who invaded the place where you live.”

Yuri’s jaw dropped. “If you knew what a horrible creature that witch is, you would never compare me to such a thing!” He gave Otabek a burning glare.

Otabek looked at the pegasus, then at Yuri. “Yuri, you’re not...jealous of the pegasus here, are you?”

Yuri’s eyes widened. Then, he had a wounded expression. “Otabek...can we please just move on? Surely there’s a lot more to see here than one dumb bird-horse--”

But Yuri was interrupted by a rustling in the bushes nearby. Another much smaller horse poked her nose out and began examining Yuri. 

“What the--”

She had a light blue coat and a white star on her head. Her long wings ended in bright white points, and her feet had white socks. 

“Whoa.” Yuri gazed at the little creature and knelt down in front of her. “This one has an affinity with ice,” he said. He raised his hand over the pony’s head and a few flakes of snow fell from his palm onto her. She jumped up happily.

Otabek laughed at how quickly Yuri’s mood changed. “Careful, Yuri,” he said. “That one is this one’s daughter.” 

Yuri glanced over his shoulder at the rainbow-winged pegasus. “Amazing,” he said. “You’ve almost redeemed yourself.”

“Can’t you be a little nicer? I don’t know how you expect any of these beings to help you if you aren’t.” Otabek said to Yuri. He turned to his pegasus. “Forgive him,” he said. “He’s under a curse and he’s not taking it well.” 

The pony began nibbling Yuri’s hair. “Ah, hey, stop that!” Yuri stood back up and snatched his hair away from her. She just pranced in a little circle around him.

Otabek realized they were being watched. More of the winged horses stepped out from behind the trees, approaching them slowly. Each of them had vibrant, unusual colors. They gathered around Otabek, looking at him curiously, nosing him. What strange scheme of his father’s was this?

“Oh my god, there’s so many of them,” Yuri said. “Otabek, there’s an entire herd!” 

The valley filled up with the brilliantly colored animals, all pushing past each other to get a look at Otabek. They whispered things to him without speaking, and images streamed into his mind.

“Hey, knock it off!” Yuri wrenched his crown away from the mouth of a tall mare with a mane like pink flames. “Stop it!” A little red pony munched on the end of his tunic. He levitated up into the air in frustration. The ice pony hovered up in front of him and licked his face.

Otabek wove through the herd. An old, brown horse with wings that looked like dark green leaves pressed his nose to the top of Otabek’s head. This one knew secrets about different kinds of trees and woods. That would be useful in waking life. But the pegasus had one more message.

“Yuri,” Otabek said, “the whole herd is here except for one,” he said. “There’s one more that I’m supposed to meet, and they’re telling me I need to go find her.”

“All right, I’ll come with you.” He worked himself free of the pony and drifted back down next to Otabek. 

They walked deeper into the woods, a few of the little horses bounding along by their sides, until the landscape began to turn rocky and cold. A jagged, icy mountain stood in front of them. At its base was the entrance to a dark cave. The ponies stopped at the edge, unwilling to go in.

“I can’t see a thing inside,” Yuri said. He flattened his wings so as not to scrape against the narrow walls.

Otabek knelt next to one of the ponies. “Maybe you can help me?” He had gold wings that shimmered with flames at the end, an affinity for the sun. 

The pony shook his wings and a large feather fell from one of them. Otabek caught it. The end still glowed with gold fire. Otabek rubbed the pony’s head and walked with Yuri into the mouth of the cave.

“I wonder if there’s anything in here that might help with your curse,” Otabek said.

“No, don’t worry about that right now,” Yuri said, sighing. “It’s your dream. You should be on the lookout for what you need the most. The Tree brought you here for a reason, Otabek. But that reason might not be obvious until you wake up.”

“Sure, but what if what I need the most is to help you break your curse? Surely that would make my life a lot less dull, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” Yuri said as they walked on. He seemed reticent and moody again. “If that’s the case, then I guess the thing that would help you the most would be to figure out how to remember your dreams. They won’t be much good to you otherwise.”

“I wish I knew how,” Otabek said. 

In the darkness, Otabek sensed a creature walking next to them. The light from the flaming feather didn’t reveal it. 

“Otabek...what is that?” Yuri asked softly.

The presence felt familiar, but Otabek couldn’t explain it. The cave opened up into a large dome with gaps in its ceiling that sent down bright, bluish beams of light from the sky above. 

The creature stopped and stood in a pillar of light. A tall, black pegasus with gold, bronze, and copper colored wings. 

“Oh.” Otabek stood awestruck for a moment. The pegasus’s coat had flecks of gold in it. “This one knows all of the properties of metals,” he said. “Well, that’s very useful--”

The horse shook her huge wings, and a dozen metallic feathers fell to the ground. 

“Hey, wait a second,” Yuri said. “I have an idea.” He gathered up the feathers and twisted the ends together into a garland. He bent it into a circle, and placed it on Otabek’s head. 

“Yuri, what are you doing?” Otabek asked. But the horse nodded her head contentedly.

“When we come back,” Yuri said, “try to bring the garland with you. It’s like a key. If you can bring an object back with you, or a symbol, or, I don’t know, just something...it can make it easier to remember other things. Like with the song your sister played for you.”

“All right,” Otabek said. “I’ll try to remember metal feathers. Should be easy enough, I hope.” The pegasus stamped her foot, then bent her front leg forward as if bowing. “Ah, she wants us to get on her back.” Otabek climbed on and reached out for Yuri to join him, but Yuri just levitated on his own and sat behind him.  _ All right, be like that _ , he thought. 

The horse stretched out her wings and took off, rising up through one of the gaps in the tall cavern ceiling.

“Such odd creatures,” Yuri said.

“Yuri, do you really have to be so rude?”

“Sorry, I’m just used to dealing with animals that occur in nature, not the ones that are only in dreams,” he said. He wrapped his arms around Otabek’s waist and leaned his head between Otabek’s shoulder blades. 

Otabek smirked. “What, you mean like me? I only occur in dreams, it would seem.”

“Sure,” Yuri said. “‘Unbridled Otabek’ is a rare and mysterious creature, one that I still have to get used to.”

The pegasus rose higher into the sky. A vast landscape of ice stretched out beneath them; stately glaciers, distant frozen mountains, and fields of snow.

“This place is so beautiful,” Yuri said. “Now I wonder whose dream this really is.”

The brilliant sun made the ground below look like a white and blue blanket strewn with crystals. The pegasus glided effortlessly through the air. They were moving fast, but Otabek still felt suspended, as if there were no time, no distance, no physical dimensions. Just a state of pure being, perfect levity, absolute effortlessness. He looked down again. Even the coldest and most distant things could still capture the sun so beautifully.

“I miss the Earth,” Yuri confessed. “Don’t get me wrong, I like traveling in dreams, but...I think I would do anything to touch the Earth again.”

The weight of Yuri’s body began to feel lighter against Otabek’s back. Otabek was worried. He turned around and saw that Yuri looked semi-transparent. “Yuri?”

“The sun’s coming up soon,” Yuri said, dejected. “I don’t have much longer with you now. Otabek, don’t forget to take the garland with you. And please, please come find me when you wake up.”

“I’ll do the best I can,” he said. “I’ll try not to let you down.” 

Yuri kissed him one more time. Otabek reached to embrace him, but his astral body dispersed into thousands of tiny ice crystals that scattered on the wind. 

Otabek sighed and wrapped his arms around the pegasus’s neck.  _ I guess I haven’t got much longer either, do I?  _ He let the pegasus continue to carry him. What a strange feeling, to be carried. He couldn’t remember feeling this way since he was a little child. 

A patch of green forest appeared on the distant horizon. The sky and the land below felt infinitely empty, but even though Otabek wanted Yuri to come back, he didn’t feel alone. The wind around him was cold, but Otabek didn’t feel cold himself. He let himself lie against the horse’s back and watched the sun gleam off of her wings. 

As the forest drew closer, Otabek realized the trees were many times bigger than any he knew from Earth. The pegasus was barely the size of a sparrow compared to the enormous branch that she landed on. Otabek jumped down from her back and rubbed her flank in thanks. The Tree beckoned. 

Otabek slouched as he walked toward the center of its trunk. The horse gave him a little nudge.

“Hey, I’m going!” He said, laughing. The horse just watched him. _ Maybe she’s right _ , Otabek thought. _Maybe it’s better if I don’t get pulled back into my body too quickly._ _ Maybe if I go by the Tree, I’ll remember more… _

He looked at the horse again, and noticed something he hadn’t before. An extremely thin, subtle gold line leading out from the center of her chest.  _ Strange _ , he thought.

A beetle the size of a dog scooted across his path. Otabek stretched out his arms and asked the Tree to take him back.

_ Good morning. You have reached the Tree of Life. To return to your body, take a step forward. Guides are standing by to assist you.  _

Otabek turned around one more time before he took a step. In place of the horse, he saw a female figure with long hair waving goodbye, silhouetted against the blinding sun. 


	8. Chapter 8

In the early hours of the morning, Potya devoured a songbird. At Yuri’s request, she took a single brown feather and laid it among Otabek’s belongings where he would be sure to find it. She left it on top of a leather-bound notebook that was lying on a low table along with Otabek’s watch and wallet. 

Otabek lay in bed like a slug, oblivious to the cat’s presence. 

_ If I stay in bed any longer _ , he thought as the clock in the hall chimed ten, _ they’ll think something’s wrong with me. No, they’ll know for a fact that something is wrong with me, because there  _ is _ something wrong with me. Perhaps no one will be able to trace the exact moment of my descent into madness, but they’ll know that it began to manifest clearly over this weekend at the Countess’s estate. _

Otabek’s hand was stiff from getting himself off. His mind had been flooded with vivid images of the man from his dream the previous night. Otabek took advantage of the privacy at Mila’s and the privilege of having his laundry done by maids that wouldn’t judge. At least not outwardly. Mila’s home was always a buzzing hive of gossip, and she retained no one that would compromise anyone’s fun. As far as all her staff were concerned, the more unusual and salacious the guests, the better.

_ It’s not normal to be obsessed with a dream _ , Otabek thought. But he couldn’t help it. When he thought of fairies, he thought of someone with a serene and delicate demeanor, like Sara. Not this strange, beautiful young man who was rather like a cat, Otabek thought. He was affectionate and charming one moment, aggressive and fussy the next. Very moody, now that Otabek thought about it more. He liked it. The man in white was unfailingly blunt and direct. He liked Otabek, and wanted Otabek, and Otabek believed it. The man seemed to hate nearly everything else, but at least there was honesty behind his disdain. No posturing, no concern for social graces. And Otabek liked feeling head-and-shoulders above the rest of the creation in the young man’s eyes.

Otabek spent the morning imagining himself in a secluded grove with his companion, freed of his tunic, worshipping his body. Otabek saw himself kissing and licking him all over, tracing the contours of every small muscle with his tongue and hands. He pictured his blunt, direct reactions: more of everything! The man had a hunger to be touched, seen, explored. He reminded Otabek of an aloof barn cat from his home that took no interest in humans until she eventually got used to Otabek’s presence. Then she began demanding to be stroked. She looked so blissful and content while Otabek ran his hand through her fur, rolling onto her back and purring luxuriantly. But as soon as he stopped, a vicious hiss! She would yowl at him or bite his hands once his affection stopped, and it made him laugh every time. Such a selfish, insatiable creature!

Otabek imagined that the man from his dream had the same voracious, animalistic appetite, for affection and sex. And from no one else, from Otabek alone, the way the cat snubbed all other attempts to get her attention.  _ Only I get to see you like this, and touch you like this. Only I get to have all of you. Only I can give you what you really want. _

The young man made Otabek think of a marble statue come to life; he was pale and slim, but heavy, lean and dense. Not some innocent creature lying about, allowing itself to be defiled. Otabek pictured him thirsty to take human seed, clinging to Otabek, pressing into him with his entire body, whispering his demands in Otabek’s ear. Which would be better, if it were for the first time, or if the man had done this many times before, and wore his seemingly delicate appearance as a clever facade? Otabek wasn’t sure. He knew he wanted to be seduced. Sought out, chosen, used, played with. Perhaps he was just an innocent wanderer in the forest, and had the misfortune of coming across this creature's lair. Yes, then he would have no choice but to give this deceitful little being what he wanted, pushed up against a tree with his legs wrapped around Otabek’s waist…

_ Can’t you at least imagine a real person, and not some fantasy creature? _ But then, he thought, maybe it was better this way. This way, he’d never have to look an acquaintance in the face, secretly knowing he’d imagined himself licking their neck while they raked their fingernails up his back, panting and demanding more. 

Otabek pulled himself to his feet. He felt a little soreness between his legs from having been so eager. When he was finished washing up and getting dressed, he noticed a single brown feather lying on top of his journal.

_ Feathers. _

_ He gave me a crown made out of gold and copper feathers... _

More images streamed into Otabek’s mind, some still watery and fuzzy, some crystal clear. Horses with wings. Caves. Fields of ice. A feeling of seeing his parents again, but without actually seeing them. Something important about types of woods and metals that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, something that he wanted to remember to take back to his work...and then, Yuri saying something about being under a curse...

_ Wait...his name is Yuri!  _ Both nights, the young man had pleaded for help.  _ And I told him I would help him… No, I told him I would do  _ anything _ to help him. _

_ And I meant it.  _

Otabek held the feather up to light from the window and contemplated the fine lines that ran through it. 

_ I really am going crazy. _

❄

In the salon, while the others ate breakfast, Otabek stood with his coffee looking into the doll case, distressed. Mila walked up next to him.

“I’ve noticed you keep looking at our little friend here,” she said. “Why don’t you take him with you? As a kind of good luck charm?”

“You absolutely should not do that,” Anya said.

“Anya, my darling, what is the matter with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! I can’t understand what you’re so worried about,” Mila said.

Anya looked sternly at Otabek. “If you take that doll with you, and anything unfortunate happens to you at all, even something minor or insignificant,” she pointed at him, “you should destroy it immediately. Burn the thing and then bury the ashes. Or scatter them in the river.”

“Anya!” Mila tried to keep herself from laughing.

Anya shut her eyes. “That’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”

In the carriage, on their way back into the city, Sara sat with Otabek on the narrow bench. She took the doll from Otabek’s bag on the ledge in front of them to get a closer look. 

“I hadn’t noticed it in the case before,” Sara said, running her thumb over the doll’s hair and admiring the details. “I would have loved to have a doll like this as a child! I loved fairies when I was little.”

“You can tell it’s a fairy?” Otabek supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. “From the marks on the back?”

“Yes,” Sara had a delighted smile. “And his crown. I’ve never seen such things on a doll, though. Only in drawings.” She set the figure upright in the top of Otabek’s satchel so that its head and torso were still visible. “Oh! I should have the glass artists in my hometown make a set of wings for him! Or, I suppose you could always sell him. He’s so beautifully made, I wonder what kind of price he would fetch. At very least, I think you should have him appraised. Perhaps someone in town can tell you where he was made.”

“I guess I could,” Otabek said. “Though for now...I think I will just keep him around. Just for luck, like Mila said. Although Anya seems to think I’m making a deal with the devil. I can’t understand what she was so upset about.” But Otabek was becoming more convinced by the minute that the dream was true. Some conscious being was staring at him out of the doll’s stone eyes, and it made him feel as though his body was rippling water, not entirely solid. 

“She’s very strange, isn’t she?” Sara said. “Maybe she knows something we don’t.”

This did not make Otabek feel any better. “Well, I don’t feel any worse. At very least, it’s a bit shocking to remember my dreams again after so many years. I suppose that can’t be a bad thing.”

“So you dreamed again last night? What did you see?”

“All kinds of strange things,” Otabek said. Sara was a gentle soul; he decided he could tell her without fear. “You know, when I was a boy, I had a set of glass marbles that I was very fond of; they had all kinds of colors in them, in beautiful swirls. I’m sure you’ve seen what I’m talking about.” He watched the doll while he spoke, and while it wasn’t capable of moving, its face seemed to convey a deep despair. “My father and I used to play games with them; he used them to teach me arithmetic, and things like that. Sometimes, just for fun, he would hide them around the house and the garden, and my sister and I would go hunt for them, and he would give a little trinket to whoever found the most. In any case, I always liked them. Sometimes I would hold them up to the sun and imagine that there were tiny creatures inside, or even entire tiny planets.”

“I used to do that too!” Sara said. “But we had a set of paper weights instead, made of the same kind of glass.”

Otabek couldn’t explain why it made him happy to know that Sara had the same little childhood habit, in addition to knowing about fairies. “In my dream, it was like my father set up another one of his games...but for each marble, there was a beautiful pegasus in the same colors. A whole herd of them. As if they were the little beings that were trapped inside the glass all along.”

“Oh, I think that’s lovely,” Sara said.

“Well...it was!” Otabek shook his head and smiled. “I had the distinct feeling my father was there, even though I didn’t see him. Anyways, my favorite marble of all of them was heavier than the others...it was made of goldstone, or glass with tiny flecks of copper inside it. When you hold it up to the light, it looks like the night sky. There was a pegasus there that looked like it...black with gold and copper wings…” He sighed and looked out the window. “And then that strange medicine man again, dressed like the doll.” It felt so strange to describe it out loud, and to someone who wanted to hear such things, no less. 

“So you’ve seen your family, or something like them, each time,” Sara said. “That’s interesting. Doesn’t seem like much of a curse to me.” 

The word ‘curse’ made Otabek shiver. 

“I think something must have happened to Anya, to make her so high strung,” Sara said. “Whether it was real or not, I don’t think it matters. Maybe she had some fever dream as a child, or some experience she couldn’t explain.”

“I don’t know,” Otabek said. “I don’t know her well enough to say.”

“Everyone in that household is strange, but that’s what makes it fun,” Sara said.

“I have to say I’m surprised to hear you say that,” Otabek said.

“Are you, though? Well, I guess I can’t blame you, can I? It’s what I really think, and I rarely say what I truly think.” She leaned against the window and looked longingly outside. “I’m glad I got to come back with you, though,” she said. “I hardly ever get any time without Mickey. And I’d wanted to talk to you more, anyway.”

“Well, if we’re speaking honestly, may I ask why? To both things, I mean.” It was refreshing to Otabek to see Sara let go of some of her diplomat’s demeanor, just as it had been to see her challenge her brother with a harsh truth. 

“Oh, I just thought that perhaps you and I are alike in some ways.” Sara said. “I mean, in terms of how we see things. A little differently from others, maybe. But we rarely get the chance to say it.” She smiled faintly. “As to Mickey…” Sara put her face in her hands. “Oh, Otabek! He is so ill. I worry about him every day.” She looked up, and back at Otabek again. “You know, I think any time a person is neurotic, you can trace it back to something that happened in their childhood, or their youth in general. A loss, a heartbreak, some great scare…” She shook her head. “But I can’t understand what happened to Mickey. As a child he was such a sweet and easy-going boy. I loved playing with him. And then, when we were about twelve years old, something changed for him.” Sara looked like she was holding back tears.

Otabek wasn’t sure what to do or say. Sara took a deep breath and squinted.

“He’s always so protective of me, and, well...who wouldn’t want some hero to protect them?” She turned her palms up. “To tell the truth, there are some very unsavory men who have approached me. Just because they’re nobles doesn’t mean they have any shred of character,” she said with a scowl. “And Mickey was such a saint about keeping them away from me. Making sure my reputation wouldn’t suffer from turning them down.” She blinked a few times and a tear crept down her cheek. “He’s been such a loving brother to me in so many ways, but…” she shook her head, her eyes pressed shut.

Otabek realized how honored it made him feel that Sara was willing to disclose so much. 

“You know, Otabek, I think he is absolutely terrified of getting married. He’s never courted anyone, and the thought of me courting anyone simply horrifies him! He has no idea about Mila, or if he does, he’s done a fine job of hiding it. He has this whole, elaborate story about how much I need him.” She frowned at the floor. “But it’s the other way around! He’s the one who needs me! He’s using me to avoid choosing a spouse.”

“He seems extremely troubled,” Otabek said. “Sara, I wish I had some advice for you--”

“No, it’s all right! Just to tell someone what it’s like, it already makes my heart feel lighter.” She leaned her head against Otabek’s shoulder. “Eventually I’ll have to find someone like you or the General to marry,” she said. “And live with him as friends while we both carry on our affairs in secret.”

“I suppose I’m lucky to be a common person in that regard,” Otabek said. “I don’t think I will ever marry. It would feel like such a betrayal to the woman that I couldn’t live with it. I imagine I’ll be a perpetual bachelor like the General and let the rumors flow as they may. They’ll hurt me a lot less than they would hurt you.”

“Oh, I don’t know, you may very well find a companion who suits you, maybe a woman in my position...or maybe a young widow whose heart is elsewhere, but who still loves your company and wants to stand by you. I just hate the idea of you going through life alone, Otabek. You’re a very kind man, I can’t imagine other people not being drawn to you once they get to know you.”

Otabek was touched by her words, and the way they poured out of her with sincerity. He didn’t like the idea of being without a partner in life either, but he assumed it would always be his lot, and the best he could do was cultivate as many close friends as possible. 

“As for me, I think I would be very lucky if I could marry a friend. It wouldn’t be a terrible life. Who knows, we might even be very happy. Mickey doesn’t like the thought of me being friends with men, but we’re all just people.”

The gentle pressure of Sara’s head on his shoulder was surprisingly pleasant. He found Sara beautiful. He felt no desire to take her as a lover, but speaking honestly and freely, and feeling her affectionate touch made him feel as though a heavy weight was lifting from his shoulders. 

“For a while, I thought, perhaps if I could get to know more men as friends, I might discover some insight into why Mickey is the way he is. Everything about the body repulses him. In our home we have beautiful paintings everywhere, but he detests the ones with nude figures in them, male and female! I don’t understand it at all,” Sara said.

Otabek felt her begin to tremble against his shoulder. She sniffled, trying to ward off tears that would spill regardless.

“All I want...is for him to be happy,” she said. “I know we’ll never go back to the way we were as children, but...Otabek, I miss my brother!” She covered her face with her hands, and Otabek put his arm around her shoulders. “It sounds so strange to say it...but it feels like my real brother is gone, and in his place is this terrified stranger who speaks for him.” She heaved as she cried. “If anyone is under a curse it isn’t you or that little doll, it’s Mickey!” 

Otabek pulled her toward him very delicately. She cried hard into his shoulder, and he held her hand. 

He felt terrible for Sara. “I’m so sorry,” he said. 

“No, I’m sorry.” She started to pull away, but Otabek gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Sara, you aren’t wrong to be upset. It’s possible to lose someone while they’re still alive. I, well...I know what it’s like...to want someone back, very badly.”

Another wave of tears. The best thing he could do, he thought, was just let Sara cry, the way Sister Gulnaz and Devorah Rivken had simply sat with him as a child. At the time, he thought the tears would never end and that he would never feel happiness again. 

Otabek looked over Sara’s shoulder at the doll, still peeking up from his satchel. He remembered more of his dream: Yuri had lain down with him, crying in anguish, in despair over his curse. 

For a moment, Otabek felt sick. It wasn’t the crying he was drawn to. No, he didn’t want to see anyone he loved upset. But he liked that they opened up to him, trusted him. It wasn’t just him holding them, they were holding him as well, by choosing to come to him. Otabek’s job, he realized, was to hold on to the thread of possibility for them: future happiness on the other side of a river of grief that always seemed impossible to cross. 

_ Yuri… _ Otabek thought.  _ I have to see you again tonight.  _


	9. Chapter 9

When Yuri emerged from Otabek’s bag again, he found himself sitting on Otabek’s desk, looking out into his living room.  _ So, this is  _ your _ forest _ , Yuri thought. Otabek’s apartment was small, paneled in dark wood, with simple brass fixtures. Yuri recognized the large tapestry on the floor and the smaller ones hanging on the walls from the unusual round room in Otabek’s dream. A large, framed mirror hung on the wall across from the desk, and Yuri could see the back of Otabek’s head reflected in it, as well as the view out the window, looking out over the river. He felt deeply relieved to see the sky, just barely beginning to turn orange as twilight drew near.

In one corner of the room stood a small upright piano, and a guitar on a stand. The shelves were packed with books and curiosities: ships in bottles, a few animal skulls arranged by size, shadow boxes of large, colorful insects, and several impressive geodes, doing their best to serve as bookends on their crowded shelves. The sofa under the large mirror was piled a bit too high with embroidered cushions, in the same fashion as the vest Otabek wore in dreams. Yuri wondered, if he were to run his hands over the strange objects, would they offer up any secrets about Otabek, the way leaves and flowers whispered to him in the woods? But it wasn’t the objects he was dying to touch, it was the somber-looking man taking his belongings from his bag and returning them to their places. 

The room wasn’t untidy, but it felt loud to Yuri. The noise was astral, not physical: a sense of chattering, or buzzing. It was obvious to Yuri that the mind of the man that lived there was never truly at rest, always considering something, always roaming, searching, solving some problem. The noise was contagious, Yuri thought; his own mind had never been more restless and agitated than in the past few days.

Otabek lay his books and journal back on the desk; he struck a match and lit a few granules of resin on a piece of charcoal in a small metal incense burner. The smell was warm; earthy, sweet, and spicy...and then Yuri realized he was able to smell.

He’d had no such ability in the Countess’s salon. But Otabek’s home was filled with unfamiliar scents. The incense smoke, the rich smell of the leather covering his notebook, the slightly sweet smell of paper, the citrusy black tea that Otabek got up to brew himself a pot of. And then, the best and most painful of all: when Otabek leaned over the desk to write in his notebook, Yuri could sense the faint, subtle musk of his hair.

_ Please, God, let this be a sign that things are changing...  _

Yuri was thankful that Sara sat him upright in the carriage, and he still couldn’t quite explain why he liked her. But as soon as Otabek put his arm around her shoulder, Yuri felt a flood of jealousy like none he’d ever experienced in his life. Until that moment, no other creature had ever possessed anything that Yuri wanted for himself. Yuri thought the doll might split apart from his seething.

_ It’s not fair! He’s supposed to do that with  _ me _! I don’t want to see him touch anyone else! Sara, you hag! Get away from him! _

Yuri knew it was futile. They were in a carriage, where else could she go? And whether he liked it or not, there was a color and a shape to Sara’s words, as if they were music. As she talked about her brother, Yuri felt a dark haze of despair pour forth from her mouth like smoke, not unlike the heavy darkness he’d sunk into himself on the steps to Mila’s garden.

_ But it doesn’t matter! _ He thought. _ She doesn’t matter, she’s just some random human...she’s no one… _

But if what she said mattered to Otabek, then, it might have been important…

_ No, there’s no point in getting caught up in human feelings. She’s no different from Kerebos bawling into the lake. Who cares? All humans do is suffer from the day they’re born. It’s endless, so there’s no point in getting involved… _

But Kerebos wasn’t human either. 

Yuri looked at the page of Otabek’s notebook. He noticed that while the Countess wrote her letters from left to right, Otabek wrote in the opposite direction. The words formed elegant swirls and points; their serpentine forms came from a language Yuri had never seen. Otabek reached for a pencil and sharpened it with a small knife. He drew sketches to accompany the writing: in one, a young woman kneeling, playing the beautiful long-necked instrument; in another, a tiger with a scorpion’s tail; then a winged horse; and finally, Yuri watched the lines emerge on the page...a figure with long hair, a short tunic, and six wings…

_ Otabek, please...tell me you remember! _

Otabek looked up at the doll for a moment. “I’m not going to sell you, don’t worry,” he said with a little smile. “I don’t need the money that badly.” He reached above his head and cracked his knuckles, his wrists, and his neck. “Well, the neighbors are already used to hearing me to talk to myself at odd hours, so now I suppose I can talk to you instead.” Then he slouched back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Yuri…”

_ Yes! Please, say my name again… _

“I can’t decide which is worse, Yuri.” he sighed heavily. “For you to be real and under some horrid magic, or for me to be going out of my mind at such a young age.” He rubbed his face and ran his hands through his hair. “I suppose everyone already thinks I’m a little crazy. Well, maybe it’s not the worst thing. That way, they don’t expect quite so much from me. Ah, here I go already, talking to you. I’m sure I say more when I’m alone than I ever do around anyone else. Hm. Perhaps I like my own company better than anyone else’s. Magic creatures notwithstanding,” he said. 

_ Hey, it’s not your fault if everyone around you is boring and dumb! It’s not like all humans are worth talking to in the first place! _

The sun was lowering into the river, and it struck the mirror, giving Otabek a bright halo. He continued to write as the sky turned the colors of fire.

_ Hey, wait a second...I can get out!  _ It wasn’t fully dark yet, but the tiny form of Yuri’s astral body walked freely across the desk.  _ I can move! Please, God, tell me this means something is changing... _

Otabek went back to writing, and the fairy walked across the page, behind the nib of his pen. The strokes of the letters reminded him of the marks that his skates left on the surface of the ice, so he followed them with his feet, turning his astral body back and forth. 

Then he felt suddenly sad.  _ This is the longest I’ve ever been away from my lake _ , he thought.  _ What if Grandpa and Lilia still don’t know where I am? And Fedya! What if he thinks I’m dead? _

"I can't imagine who would possibly want to read what I write here," Otabek muttered to the doll. 

_ Oh, come on, _ Yuri thought. I _ want to know what you’re writing! I wish you would just read it to me!  _ He looked at the page and tried to let some of the meaning wash over him, the way he did when trying to understand the conversations in French. There was a sense of mystery, and fear; caution to the writing. But also fascination. And a palpable wanting...

"I write it in my mother tongue, not so much for privacy, but simply so that I don't forget it. I haven't spoken my first language in years. Some days it feels like an alien language that belongs to me alone. These days I find my thoughts are in many languages at once, but it helps to gather them all up in Kazakh from time to time.” Otabek’s voice was light, but Yuri sensed the loneliness behind it.

_ So that’s what the language is called? _ Yuri wondered what it sounded like.

Otabek turned the page, and Yuri sat down in the top corner. He wrapped his arms around his knees, he sighed and hung his head. Then he heard the sound of Otabek's pencil scratching again. Another drawing was emerging. 

“I guess there are a few things I’d rather not have anyone see.” 

Yuri looked at the lines taking shape: two male figures with no clothes. One with long, light hair, straddling one with short, dark hair, who was embracing him.  _ Ah! It’s the two of us! _ Yuri stood up again and peered down at the drawing. Otabek drew in the swirling pattern of Yuri’s collapsed wings. The tiny astral flame glowed brighter. He had no more physical body that could flush with desire. Instead the little ghost just lit up with longing.  _ I...like this drawing...very much.  _

_ But wait, I never sat with him quite like this, without my tunic…So, this is something Otabek came up with himself...  _

Yuri clicked his fingers. The apparition expanded, sitting on the edge of the desk. He ran his astral hand down the back of Otabek’s head, and it made him flinch.

“Hm. Must be the wind,” he said, looking slightly chilled. Then he glanced at the doll again, and returned to his drawing. 

_ Damn it...I just want him to know I’m here! _

Yuri stood up and wrapped his arms around Otabek’s shoulders. Otabek shifted uneasily in his chair, but kept working. The sketch was simple, but Otabek was still a talented draftsman. Yuri thought of the book that the historian had given Otabek, how the drawings momentarily transported him, like portals. Yuri gazed at the drawing.  _ I want to be there! _

Otabek put down his pencil and got up, he took a glass decanter from a cabinet and poured himself a shot of an amber colored spirit. He downed it quickly and looked at the doll. “Perhaps if I’m lucky, I’ll see my muse again this evening.”

He took his coat and a heavy gray scarf from a hook by the door and put them on, then walked out the door and down the long flight of stairs to the street below. Yuri clicked his fingers and flew down to follow him, then nestled himself into the folds of the scarf.

❅

Yuri found artificial light incredibly strange. The lamps that lined the lined streets glowed like ribbons of gold moons, or giant congregations of obedient fireflies. He sometimes took for granted that humans couldn’t see in the dark. 

The sun had vanished and a brisk wind blew at Otabek’s back, seeming to push him along the bridge across the river toward Nekola’s tavern. Even as the tiny light, the chill in the air felt blissful to Yuri. It made him sad to think Otabek had to defend himself from it. 

Yuri had only ever walked past the tavern in Berezhovoye, he’d never gone inside, and never wanted to, from the murky atmosphere. Nekola’s wasn’t nearly as bogged down in astral smoke, but perhaps, Yuri thought, it was simply because it was newer. When Otabek opened the door, Yuri felt overwhelmed by the noise from the crowd inside and tucked himself deeper into the fabric. He poked his head out, warily.

“Hey, Beka, glad you made it!” The Spaniard called Leo clapped Otabek on the back. Then Yuri noticed something: he had a salamander standing on his shoulder. 

_ What the hell? What’s  _ he _ doing here? _

“Hey, Otabek!” Emil shouted and waved from behind the bar.

Yuri was still stumped by the salamander. Like Yuri, he was only an inch tall in his small form. He looked like a young man with short, reddish brown hair, wearing a long, flowing red garment with slits in the wide sleeves. A flame-like aura surrounded him. 

Yuri glanced around the tavern. Colorful flags and shields from different regions Yuri had never heard of covered the walls, in between framed maps and posters for famous breweries. In the corners stood suits of armor, each holding huge pewter beer steins. The low light from the large iron lanterns glinted off of the mirrored shelves of bottles behind the bar.  _ They sure pick fancy places to get drunk in, don’t they? _

Otabek sat down at a table in the corner with Leo, Christophe, and to both Otabek and Yuri’s surprise, Michele.  _ Hey, isn’t that the weird Italian? _

Yuri flew over to Leo’s shoulder. The salamander didn’t notice him at all. He stood with his tiny palms pressed together, deep in concentration, working a prolonged spell to ward off the astral smoke from Leo. 

“Hey!” Yuri shouted at him amidst the noise. “Hey, can’t you see me! Hello?” He tried throwing a jet of frost to get the salamander’s attention, but only a wisp of light left his palm, astral snow that had no effect.

_ Are you serious? Really? Nothing? _ It was no use. Humans were still the only beings who could see Yuri.  _ Damn it! If he could just talk to me, maybe he could help me, too! Does Leo have any idea that he has an elemental on him? Can he see him? What does Leo know about fairies, if anything?  _ Yuri sat back down on Otabek’s shoulder, crossed his arms, and pouted.  _ Forty hells!  _

Waitresses in long, swishy skirts and Bohemian embroidery on their vests brought huge, frothy mugs of beer to the table, along with steaming bowls of a dish Yuri didn't recognize. Yuri rolled over onto his stomach and propped his face up with his hands, moping as the men talked and ate. 

"Michele, I have to say I'm surprised to see you here without your other half," Otabek said. 

"I'm surprised, too!" Michele said, clearly many beers in. "But here we are!" He also looked surprised to be enjoying himself. "Sara insisted on eating alone. She banished me!" He hiccuped.

“I’m sure more of Emil’s beer will take your mind off of it,” Leo said. 

Christophe just raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "You're looking well," he said to Otabek. "My theory about time in the countryside seems to be true."

"I'm certainly no worse for it," Otabek said. 

_ Of course he's better off for it! _ Yuri thought.  _ How can anyone live without plenty of time outside? _

"Anyway, now that you're here, I've got a bit of interesting news," Christophe said. "Karpíšek's assistant has fallen ill, so he wants me to stand in for him."

"Karpíšek?" Leo was confused. 

"An old mentor of mine. He designs costumes for the Mariinsky Theatre. He's the reason I ended up in Saint Petersburg."

"What about his wife, isn't she a seamstress?" Otabek asked. 

"Oh, better than Karpíšek," Christophe said. "But he tells me they have more work than they can handle because of the new ballet that's opening. All of you ought to come see it, by the way." He turned to Otabek with a gleam in his eye. "I was just at the rehearsal this afternoon. I should introduce you to some of the dancers. Perhaps you might find someone to bring with you to the Countess's soirees."

Otabek took a long sip of beer. "I'll think about that."

"You too, Michele," Christophe said. Michele snorted into his mug, and Christophe clapped him on the back. 

_ No no no, _ Yuri thought,  _ I know what happens at Mila's and I'd rather break my wings off than see Otabek like that with someone else!  _

Yuri felt a numbness, a great unease wash over him.  _ What is happening to me?  _ He sat up again and tugged on the ends of his astral hair.  _ It’s not like I own him. It’s not like he owes me anything, but…  _ The thought of Otabek having an affair with some dancer at the Countess’s estate filled him with agony. A rage and fire that could melt the snow. 

_ God, if this is what it’s like to be a human, I hope I never have the misfortune of being reborn as one!  _ Yuri felt completely powerless over these wild, strange new emotions, as if he were lost at sea in an uncontrollable storm.  _ No wonder Kerebos is so stark raving mad! _

Christophe let the gossip mill turn; according to him, the General was aching to take Katsuki to the ballet to show off this cultural wonder, but not planning to recruit any more members of his “personal army” for the time being.

“He’s really that smitten, huh?” Leo downed the last of his mug. 

“He’s never struck me as a man who settles down,” Christophe says. “But I’ve never seen him so infatuated with one person. I’m not saying I’m not happy for him, it’s just somewhat unexpected.”

“Well, he does have a certain charm to him,” Otabek said.

_ Oh, come on, Beka! _ Yuri thought.  _ What could you possibly want with that pasty little weasel?  _ Although Yuri himself had to admit how much he liked the book of artwork. 

Yuri levitated off of Otabek’s shoulder and flew around the inside of the tavern. The patrons were mostly men, with a handful of women mixed in. He still burned with jealousy, like a constant, sour note that wouldn’t stop echoing. Yuri had never found any human particularly beautiful, but he’d never bothered to look at any of them very carefully. Or himself in his human form, for that matter. He studied the patrons’ faces and was mostly indifferent. Each one was like a closed book. Some seemed mildly interesting, but how could he know?

He clicked his fingers and sat down on the last empty stool at the bar. He looked at his semi-transparent hands.  _ I don’t want to be human _ , he thought.  _ What could possibly make it worth it to be human?  _ He watched Nekola and the others scramble to serve their waiting patrons. Nekola had a pleasant face, at least, and the cut of his suit suggested a nice body. Yuri wondered, if some other charming man had wandered through his forest, would he have followed him? What was it about Otabek that enchanted him so much? 

Yuri walked along the bar, and kicked his astral feet through the mugs of beer in frustration. He looked back at Otabek’s table. Leo had a warm disposition and carried something of the Spanish sun with him, Yuri thought. No wonder the little salamander was so devoted to him! 

Otabek laughed at something Christophe said, and Yuri felt a pain in his chest.  _ When he smiles it’s like the winter sun _ , Yuri thought.  _ You don’t see it as often, so you don’t take it for granted.  _ He walked over and stood at the edge of the table. 

_ I want him to be happy. But what can I possibly do for him? _

The salamander’s spell was gaining momentum, and the gold astral light from it occupied the entire table. There was hardly any darkness around Otabek’s face. Yuri looked at the salamander.  _ Once this stupid curse is over, I guess I ought to thank you _ .

He returned to his tiny form and crawled inside the pocket on the front of Otabek’s shirt to be near his heart while he moped.

_ You remind me of how the Earth is in the winter _ , Yuri thought.  _ It seems so still and cold on the surface, but underneath, it carries all the heat it needs.  _

_ The stars are like that, you know. They seem still and quiet, but they have infinite heat, infinite light. They can burn bright in the darkest, coldest places in the universe because they have all the warmth they need within them.  _

_ Maybe that’s why I like you. You remind me of a star. _

  
  


❆

Yuri sat perched at the edge of Otabek’s bed. Otabek was still falling asleep, and hadn’t yet left his body. Yuri prayed that he would. If he didn’t, then he supposed he would simply wait, and lie down next to Otabek while his body recovered from the day.

Yuri walked over to the bedroom window and looked at the night sky. It was harder to see the stars from the lanterns on the street below, and Yuri didn’t like it. Instead he had to simply feel their presence. 

Then he felt someone walk up behind him. Otabek wrapped his arms around his Yuri’s shoulders. 

“Were you waiting for me?” Otabek asked.

“Of course I was,” Yuri said, leaning back into Otabek. Then he turned around, irritated. “Beka, did you know your friend has a salamander following him around?”

Otabek stepped back. “Wait, what? Who?”

“The man called Leo. He has a fire fairy that keeps him company! But he wasn’t at the Countess’s! Only at the tavern.”

“I had no idea,” Otabek said. He lay his hands on Yuri’s shoulders. “Was I...supposed to know that?”

“Well I don’t know!” Yuri said. “I want to talk to him and find out what he knows! If he consorts with humans, then maybe he knows something that can help me.” Yuri leaned his head against Otabek’s chest, and Otabek wrapped his arms around him again.

“You must be extremely disappointed in me,” Otabek said.

“What do you mean?” Yuri looked up.

“I still could only remember bits and pieces of last night with you,” Otabek said. “I’m not any closer to cracking your case, am I?”

“Beka, what are you talking about?” Yuri held Otabek’s waist. “You remembered lots of things! You did extremely well! I saw what you drew in that book--”

Otabek’s astral face shone with embarrassment. “You did? Ah, yes, of course--”

“And your crown! You still have it!” Yuri reached up and touched the circlet of gold feathers. “You couldn’t be wearing it now if you didn’t remember it,” Yuri said. Then his voice softened. “And if it weren’t important to you.”

“I sensed it was something important,” Otabek said. “Anyways, I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He tilted his head down to kiss Yuri. Then he sighed heavily and looked at the sleeping figure on the bed, connected to him by the silver cord. “This poor bastard thinks he’s going insane.”

Yuri scowled. “Don’t say that, this is still you we’re talking about!”

“Why do I struggle so much in my waking life, Yuri?” Otabek asked, running his fingers through Yuri’s hair. 

“I don’t know,” Yuri said. “Being a human seems miserably hard. But you know, I’m not interested in whether or not you’re good at it. Being a human, I mean. I’m only interested in people who can drop being human for a while and come dream with me. And do important things. Like being in nature.”

Otabek laughed. “He really has no way to impress you, then, does he?”

“What? You say such strange things,” Yuri said. “Anyways, please stop talking about your waking self like it’s some other person. I care about you when you’re awake too, you know. Even if you are quiet and sad all the time. I hate it when humans pretend to be happy. I think most humans are crazy anyway, so maybe being insane to humans actually makes you sane to nature.”

“I’m lucky, then,” Otabek said. “Christophe and the General tell me my personality keeps people at arm’s length. But you don’t seem to mind it.”

“Of course I don’t. At least when you talk, you say things that actually matter, rather than prattling on about nothing.”

“You take such a generous view of me,” Otabek said. 

“Oh come on, I’m just telling you the truth.” Yuri let his body melt into Otabek’s. “I missed you, too, you know. All day, I wish you could see me and hear me.”

“I’ll get there, I promise.” Otabek ran his hand over Yuri’s hair, but it began to sink into him. Yuri was disappearing. “Yuri? Are you all right?” 

Yuri stepped back and looked at his hands. He was becoming more transparent, except for his astral veins that were beginning to glow. “I can feel the Tree starting to pull me away,” he said. “I guess there’s something I’m supposed to see tonight, but I can’t imagine what.”

“Yuri, can I come with you? The way you came with me last night?”

Yuri shook his head. “You don’t want to see my dream, Beka. Fairy dreams are very different from human dreams.”

“What do you mean? Why can’t I come with you? I want to see where you go, Yuri. I want to know more about you.”

Yuri sighed. His fingertips were already vanishing. “What I see won’t make any sense to you at all. You’d be much better off just invoking the Tree and going into your own dream. If you remember any of my dream space at all, I’d be so amazed I’d break off one of my wings and give it to you.”

“Yuri! That’s a horrible thing to say!” Otabek grabbed Yuri’s wrists; his hands were already gone. “Yuri, please. Just let me try it. Just let me see it. Even if I can’t fully understand it. Don’t you think if I can go with you it’ll still help me remember more when I wake up?”

“All right, fine,” Yuri said, his voice fading. “If you insist. But you'd better kiss me before I disappear.”

❄

“Yuri? Where are you?” 

_ More importantly, where am I?  _

Otabek stood at the end of a long corridor. The shining walls slanted inward at the top; they glowed blue and were etched with an intricate pattern. Otabek knew they were made of ice, but he didn’t feel cold. He walked along the glassy floor, his hooves clicking gently. He had the torso of a man, but the lower body of a horse. Nothing about it seemed strange to him, as though he had always been a centaur, or perhaps, this was just one of several bodies that belonged to him. 

Otabek sensed that the carvings in the walls were writing, but he had no hope of understanding it. The language was completely alien to him. 

The temple hall opened up into a vast atrium with no ceiling. A hexagonal pool of light glowed on the floor, and Yuri sat levitating above it, his eyes closed, wings outstretched. He wore no tunic or crown, and his body seemed to be made of light. The stars above them seemed closer, flickering behind colorful, shimmering curtains of aurora.

Yuri’s eyes snapped open and they glowed white. He whispered something in a language that Otabek couldn’t understand. Otabek wasn’t sure if it was Yuri that was speaking, or if some other being was speaking through him. 

Otabek walked softly through the atrium. Massive stalagmites of ice formed columns around the pool, covered in the same etched language. Five seemingly identical halls to the one Otabek walked through radiated out from the huge room. 

Yuri went silent. His eyes were half-open, back to their normal pale greenish-blue.

“Yuri...what is this place?” Otabek asked.

“It’s a repository of knowledge,” Yuri said. “Everything that can be known about ice is stored in this place.”

“How much even is there to know about ice?” Otabek asked. 

“Quite a lot!” Yuri said. “Beka, do you know what a mandala is?”

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s a sacred symmetrical pattern,” Yuri said, “that allows spiritual forces to land on Earth. They can be made out of anything,” he shut his eyes again, drinking in the aurora light from above, “but I make them out of ice.” Yuri held out his hand and a large snowflake formed above his palm. It floated gently down to Otabek. When he caught it, it didn’t melt. He looked at the intricate, glittering shape. 

“Every snowflake is a mandala, and each one has something of great importance to bring. And every single one that has ever formed on Earth is recorded here, along with its message.”

“Yuri...what is this one’s message?” He found it endearing how stern and focused Yuri looked.

“Just look at it,” Yuri said. “And see if you can feel what it’s saying to you.”

Otabek held it up to the sky and looked. He was overwhelmed by a sense of longing, a feeling of emptiness and desire. 

“That one is for you,” Yuri said. The white light in his eyes began to flicker on again. “Keep it with you. And see if you can remember it when you wake up.”

Otabek nodded. “What about the others?” Otabek asked. “What kind of message do they bring?”

“Beka, I can’t just tell you. It takes billions of mandalas to convey it.”

Otabek laughed. He liked that Yuri, even in his trance state, chose to call him by his nickname.

“But if you must know, it has to do with the expansion of the universe.”

Otabek sat down in front of Yuri and watched him from below.  _ I suppose, if you are a snow fairy, nothing in the world is more important than snow. I suppose snow is his God. _ “Well, yes, actually, I would like to know. This is your profession, isn’t it?”

“It’s not a profession, in the human sense. It’s the reason I exist,” Yuri said, eyes alight. “You know that new stars are always being born, don’t you? Far from Earth, new galaxies are always forming. But things aren’t just becoming infinitely great. Within the earth itself, there is constant change and expansion! Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘as above, so below’? There is infinite change in the realm of the small, too. Not just the giant stars. In fact, if you really want to know more about it, you should talk to tree elves. There’s a reason the pages of human books are called ‘leaves.’ Tree leaves contain vast information--”

“I’m not following you,” Otabek said.

“Why am I not surprised,” Yuri sighed.

“Oh, have some compassion! I’m just a mortal after all.”

“Oh, please! You’re far less human here than in any space you might manage to get yourself into. You might be a human  _ now _ , but clearly you were something else in a previous life if you can show up to a place like  _ this _ in an astral body like  _ that _ .” He crossed his arms. 

Otabek looked down at his horse legs. “Oh, do you like it? I think it suits me quite well.” He grinned.

“Of course I like it!” Yuri said. “Now you have six limbs, and six is a profoundly sacred number!” 

“I see.”

“Everyone thinks the number of perfection is seven, but it’s not!” Yuri’s hands were clenched into fists, and it made Otabek smile. “Perfection has already been achieved by six! From the divine unity of one comes the creative power of two, the dark and the light, the yin and the yang!” 

_ He’s cute when he’s angry _ , Otabek thought.  _ I...should probably never tell him this. _

“From the two comes three, the divine birth! And six is two times three, the cycle of creation repeating! The perfect balance, the dynamism of two and of three!”

_ What about five then? No, it’s not worth it to ask. _

Suddenly a bright light descended from above them. It merged with Yuri’s head, and then glowed through his chest, from the center of his heart. For a split second, the light was blinding, then gently faded.

Yuri began to sink down toward the pool. His wings fell limp and vanished into his back. Otabek reached out and caught him. His body was weightless, his eyes shut.

“Yuri? Are you all right?” Otabek asked.

“Yes. Just very tired. I’m finished here,” he said. 

“What’s going to happen now?” 

“Whatever you want to happen,” Yuri said. “The pool is a portal. Step into it.” His voice was faint. “My dream is over, and it’s not yet dawn.”

Otabek stepped forward, into the liquid that was not exactly water, and yet not exactly light. 

✻

When Yuri opened his eyes, he was floating on the surface of a lake. Not just any lake: one surrounded by snow-capped mountains carpeted in stately evergreens. The water was a brilliant turquoise, pierced by the sun-bleached trunks of dead trees that stood up like giant needles. 

The temple of ice was a sacred place to Yuri. Yuri barely needed to open his eyes to know that this was a sacred place to Otabek. Every drop of water seemed to speak it. 

Otabek stood up and broke the surface of the water. He slicked his wet hair back with his hands and gazed up at the sun. Yuri watched the sparkling drops roll off his body, tracing the contour of his muscles. He reminded Yuri of a piece of amber struck by the morning light, if amber could be carved and polished into something so beautiful. The water in dreams was infinitely pure. Future snow, carrying away any trace of darkness or sorrow. Otabek seemed euphoric and light, but Yuri felt heavier and denser than ever, alarmingly and unsettlingly human. 

“Do you like to swim, Otabek?” Yuri asked, smiling. They stood waist-deep in the water, free from their clothes. 

“Yes. I miss it so much,” he said with a wondrous look. “Yuri...I haven’t seen this place in years. We aren’t really here, are we?”

“No,” Yuri said. “This is one of your memories. And if I’m correct...it’s a conjuration space.”

“What do you mean?” Otabek waded over to him. 

“Think of something that you want to exist right now,” Yuri said. 

Otabek grinned. “You mean besides all this? This beautiful place, and you?” He reached for Yuri’s waist. 

“It can be anything,” Yuri said, grateful at the moment that the lower half of his body was concealed by the water. 

“I can’t think of anything.” Otabek brushed Yuri’s wet hair back from his face.

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Beka, just try it.”

Otabek laughed. “All right, let me see.” He shut his eyes, and the crown of gold feathers appeared on his head.

“Beka, look!”

Otabek reached up and touched it. “I figured I would choose something you gave me. So, you can create things here?”

“You can. Spaces like this one are rare,” Yuri said. “Usually, they’re a gift from the Tree.”

“Well, I don’t know what I did to earn such a gift,” Otabek said.

“What? No, Beka, you don’t earn it, that’s why it’s a gift,” Yuri said. “Anyways, look, don’t question it, just go with it. It’s your dream. Don’t question the Tree.”

“All right then, what else have you given me…” Otabek held out his hand. The snowflake that Yuri conjured for him in the temple appeared, the same eternal, unmelting ice.

Yuri stood still. 

“What’s wrong?” Otabek asked.

Yuri hadn’t expected Otabek to remember anything of the temple at all. That was why he chose to create a mandala that would convey everything he felt about Otabek: fascination, desire, confusion. Even a touch of panic. 

“Uh...nothing,” Yuri said. “It’s fine--”

“It’s beautiful,” Otabek said. “Well, I guess they all are in their own way. But this one...I don’t know, I feel something very strongly when I look at it, but I can’t quite put it into words.”

_ Maybe it’s better that you don’t _ , Yuri thought. He felt raw and exposed. In dreams he rarely felt so dense or physical, but his nerves felt electrified.

“Well, I don’t want to lose it, so I wonder if I can do with it what you do with your wings.” The snowflake sank into his palm and the outline of it was etched white into his skin. Otabek looked at it with a satisfied smile. 

Yuri just blinked a few times. _ He has no idea what strange magic he just worked _ , Yuri thought.  _ Either this space is something even more remarkable than I thought or...Otabek is not quite what he seems... _

“Yuri? Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I feel strange. It’s difficult for me to describe…”

“Here, come with me,” Otabek said. “I feel like lying in the sun, maybe that will help you.”

Yuri doubted it. They waded to the edge of the lake, toward a cabin with a wide porch. Otabek willed rugs and heavy blankets to appear for them to lie down on. As they walked, Yuri glanced down at his awkward half-erection that Otabek didn’t seem to notice. It was disturbing to Yuri, to feel so little control over his astral body. 

“Aren’t you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Otabek lay down on his side and reached out for Yuri to join him. 

“I...I’m sorry,” Yuri said, his skin warm from where he pressed up against Otabek, and the sun above them. “I don’t really know how to explain it.” Heat never felt this good to Yuri. He wondered how deep he was inside Otabek’s mind. Surely everything here was filtered through Otabek’s experience, he realized, and would feel much more to Yuri as it did to Otabek. Human senses, human feelings...

“Then you don’t have to.” Otabek reached for the back of Yuri’s neck and kissed him. 

Yuri felt something poke his leg. A wave of nervous heat passed through him.  _ How much of this is his feelings, and how much of this is mine?  _ Yuri drew back from the kiss, fully hard, a pleasurable but alien feeling. “I don’t spend very much time in my human body in waking life,” he said as Otabek kissed his neck. “Because, well...I don’t really need it that much, for what I’m called to do.” Otabek reached for the small of his back and pulled him in closer. “To be honest, I don’t know why I have a human form at all.”

Otabek’s lips grazed Yuri’s ear. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Yuri turned to lie on his back, and Otabek lay on top of him. Yuri let his weight sink into him. After the weightless, dimensionless state of his trance in the temple, he felt jolted, disoriented. Yet the weight felt good, alarmingly so. A different kind of pleasure. 

“It might be,” Yuri said. Otabek kissed his collarbone and his chest.

“What’s wrong with being human?” Otabek slipped his arms underneath Yuri’s back.

“Well, nothing, if you’re born human,” Yuri said. He kissed the top of Otabek’s head. “But the only magic being I know that spends a great deal of time as a human is the insane sorcerer who cursed me. But he isn't a fairy like me. He's a dragon.”

Otabek propped himself up on his forearms. “Yuri...are you afraid I’m going to turn you into a human?” 

“No.” Yuri shook his head and shut his eyes. “But I’m afraid of becoming as insane as he is.”

Otabek sat down next to Yuri. “I won’t do anything if you don’t want me to--”

“But that’s the problem!” Yuri sat up suddenly. “There’s a lot of things I want to do with you! And I don’t know what’s going to happen…” his shoulders sank, “if I...succumb to this...human madness…”

Otabek wrapped his arms around Yuri. “Well...I don’t know what to tell you. Except that I quite like you as a human. And yes, a lot of us are quite mad, like you say. I don’t think there’s any getting around that.”

Yuri climbed into Otabek’s lap, facing him. He reached for Otabek’s wrist, kissed the emblem on his palm, and then touched it to his face. Otabek kissed Yuri’s mouth again.

“It’s strange to me that you say you feel so human,” Otabek whispered in Yuri’s ear. He reached down and began to lightly stroke and pull Yuri’s erection, making him shiver. “As for me, I’ve never felt more divine.”

Yuri smiled. “I guess you should. After all, you are shining like a god in this place.”

Otabek pressed lightly against Yuri’s chest, and Yuri lay back down. He didn’t expect Otabek to begin kissing and licking him between his legs, gripping his thighs hard. Yuri gasped.

“Is that all right?” Otabek looked up, worried.

“Are--are you joking?” Yuri laughed. “Why did you stop?”

Otabek smiled and licked Yuri again, slowly, up the length of his shaft. Yuri gripped Otabek’s shoulder with one hand, and a tight handful of the blankets with the other. He felt as though a bolt of lightning had gone through his spine.  _ This...would drive any being crazy! _

Otabek conjured what seemed like an endless amount of fragrant gold oil to cover his hands. He started to slip one of his fingers into Yuri, but Yuri winced, bracing against the pressure. 

“I’ll stop if you want me to--”

“No, Yuri said, it’s not that…” he sighed. 

Otabek kissed Yuri’s hipbone. “Yuri...you said this place belongs to me, right?”

“Of course it does.” Yuri tilted his head back and took a deep breath.

“Then does that mean I can decide what happens here?” Otabek asked.

“What do you mean?”

“If I create a rule, it has to be true in this place?”

Yuri shut his eyes and ran his hand over Otabek’s hair. “I don’t know. It depends on how good of a magician you are, I guess.”

Otabek kissed the inside of Yuri’s thigh. “So if I say that nothing harmful can happen to you here, it has to be true?”

Yuri felt himself begin to relax more at Otabek’s words. He sighed heavily. “I’m not completely sure,” he said. “But I want to find out.”

Otabek moved up and slid his arm underneath Yuri’s neck. Yuri wrapped his arms around Otabek’s shoulders. He breathed deeply and let his body relax around Otabek’s fingers. He felt a decadent hunger. Nothing in nature had ever enticed him this way. He kissed Otabek again and felt waves of pressure building up inside his body. He wondered what would happen if he could ever get his physical body back again. 

“Yuri, do something for me,” Otabek said. He withdrew his hand carefully and sat up. “Do you remember my drawing?”

Yuri smiled. He straddled Otabek, tilted his head down, and kissed him. Then, for a moment, Otabek rested his head against Yuri’s chest.

“Beka? What’s wrong?"

Otabek kissed the pit of Yuri’s neck. “I can already tell that waking up is going to be painful.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick update this time...hoping to dive back into this more this week. ^^

Otabek held Yuri’s waist and gazed at his body. In his waking life, he’d only ever slept with anyone under a thick coating of the black leaves from alcohol. But here, Yuri shone clear as daylight. He looked at Otabek with an intense fire in his pale eyes, and his chest glowed with the strange starlight of the temple.

Otabek ran his hand up Yuri’s back and rested it on his neck. In this place, where he could seemingly control matter, Otabek willed his body to obey him and not finish too soon. He was determined to sell Yuri on the perks of being human, and not about to ruin it in any shape or form.

A grin crept across his face. “Yuri, do you think I can stop time here, too?” Otabek asked.

“I don’t know,” Yuri said. He took Otabek’s face in his hands. “But I know what you  _ can _ do.” 

“What is that?”

“Stop talking,” Yuri said with a wildcat smile. He kissed Otabek before he could laugh and carefully lowered himself onto Otabek’s erection. For a moment, Otabek seized up at the heat and tightness of Yuri’s body. 

Yuri moved slowly, his breath was delicate and thin in the beginning until he could relax more to take Otabek deeper. Otabek’s eyelids fluttered; the feeling of being pulled by Yuri’s entire body made him delirious. Penetrating Yuri with his hands made him feel like something of a magician, more so than being able to conjure matter, from the way Yuri writhed and moaned. But now Otabek wanted to feel devoured and controlled. 

He began to lean back, and Yuri pressed his palm to the center of his chest, gently pinning him to the floor. Yuri became a little more aggressive as his body adjusted, pushing himself harder and faster back onto Otabek’s cock. Otabek released his hands to the floor, and Yuri grabbed them; he plunged his tongue into Otabek’s mouth.

Otabek was already riding a hard edge, forcing himself not to come; at least in his dream it was easier to control than in waking life. The tension in his body unraveled except for in his groin, all concentrating there as Yuri played with him. He felt a supreme satisfaction to be wanted; Yuri was like a ravenous animal, not dangerous on purpose, but still heavy, forceful. 

_ Come on, don’t you want more?  _

Yuri arched his back and grit his teeth; he planted his hands back on the ground again, and Otabek grabbed his hips. He felt a streak of hot fluid splatter onto his abdomen. Yuri sank down onto his forearms, panting. Otabek wrapped his arms around Yuri again and tilted his head back; he let himself go, his body jolted from the wave of pent-up energy.

For a few minutes, they said nothing. Or had it been longer? Otabek hadn’t actively tried to change time, yet it still felt suspended. Otabek felt a smooth, liquid sensation pour through his body, from the crown of his head, down his spine, out the soles of his feet. For a moment his mind went white like the zenith of the sky, a perfect, blissful blankness. Yuri still breathed heavily, and the weight of his body pressing Otabek into the floor made him feel profoundly relaxed. Otabek held Yuri against him and smelled his hair. It reminded him of violets, the freshly trimmed hedge outside the Countess’s manor, and the slightly sweet smell of leaves on the ground after the rain in autumn.

_ Will I ever get to do this in my waking life? _ Otabek wondered. He tried to imagine Yuri at the Countess’s salon. What if he had been another friend of hers, or one of the General’s attaches? Otabek was sure his waking self would have been paralyzed with self-consciousness and terrified of leaving a bad impression. He remembered the feeling of stiffness and awkwardness around people he found beautiful in the past, such a stark contrast to softness and ease of the dream, the peace he felt with Yuri now.

“I feel so strange,” Yuri said softly. “I feel so heavy. I never feel this way in dreams.”

“Are you ok?” Otabek asked. 

“I think so. I like it,” Yuri said. “Some of it, I think...is actually  _ your _ memories, affecting me. Memories of what it’s like to have a human body.”

Otabek always felt a sort of serene haze after the release: a pleasant, sleepy density to his body. But he’d never enjoyed it alone with a lover, he’d always been by himself, or caught glimpses of it in the bathhouse. 

“Yuri,” Otabek ran his hands through Yuri’s hair, “I still need to help you get your physical body back.”

“I know,” Yuri said. “I trust you. You will.”

“I have an idea.”

Yuri just groaned into Otabek’s chest, not wanting to talk.

“When I was a child, I always remembered my dreams the most clearly when I woke up suddenly. What if I force myself to wake up now? I might remember everything more clearly.”

“What? No, that’s a terrible idea,” Yuri said. 

Otabek laughed. “What do you mean?”

Yuri hugged him tighter. “Don’t wake up. Stay here with me.”

“But Yuri, I’m trying to help you.”

“I know! I told you I trust you, right? You can help me when it’s dawn.” Yuri was surprisingly strong for a man his size, and Otabek’s ribs creaked slightly from his grip. 

Otabek stroked Yuri’s back. “Yes, but…” he sighed, “I also really want to remember this. Being here with you. In my normal, dull life tomorrow, I want to remember that this happened, that it was real.”

Otabek felt Yuri wince at his words. He had an almost childlike obstinance, Otabek thought. 

“Yuri, I don’t want you to spend any more time trapped in that doll than you have to, all right? Just trust me. I really think this will work.”

Yuri shook his head, and his hair tickled Otabek’s skin. “Beka. Do you even know how to wake yourself up?”

Otabek laughed softly. “Yes, thanks to a little trick you taught me.”

Otabek felt his veins begin to light up. Yuri sank down a little deeper as Otabek began to vanish.

“Beka, wait! What are you doing?” Yuri shouted. The look of panic in his eyes made Otabek feel remorseful, but he was still determined. “Come on, don’t leave now! Just stay here with me until dawn!”

“Don’t worry, Yura! I’ll see you very soon!” Otabek called as the space around him turned to black. 

❄

Yuri sank down into the blankets, alone. His body still felt so strangely dense, and sore; it wasn’t unpleasant, just unfamiliar. But he felt overwhelmed by gravity, and soon a dreadful feeling of emptiness washed over him without Otabek there. Suddenly, he felt an immense pain in his heart, where the white light from the temple had descended into him. It made him afraid.  _ What is this about? _

Yuri sat up and clutched at his chest. He looked at the sky. The sun wasn’t the sun, it was Otabek’s sun, and it warmed his body in an unfamiliar way. The trees didn’t speak to him the way they did in waking life; these were Otabek’s trees, and they whispered in a different language, rich and musical, but foreign. This whole space belonged to Otabek, but without him there, Yuri felt useless and miserable.

_ I know he was just trying to help. I know he was just trying to do the right thing _ , Yuri thought. _ But I wanted him to stay! _ Yuri slammed his fist against the floor of the porch and hung his head.

He dragged himself to his feet, still coming out of the pleasant but unusual sleepiness. He’d felt as though a surge of electricity had gone up his spine, and lying on Otabek’s chest reminded him of the quiet rain that followed a heavy storm; an intense wave of pleasure, and then a diffuse, soft feeling of melting into Otabek. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt. Yuri walked down to the water’s edge and felt himself sniffle.

_ No _ , he thought. The image of Kerebos flashed into his mind.  _ I am not about to cry about this. I’m not! He has no right to upset me like this, but I’m not going to-- _

Yuri noticed something watching him. A short distance away, the blue pegasus with colorful wings was standing near the edge of the lake. Yuri hadn’t perceived any other beings in the space until that moment.

“Hey! What are you looking at?” he snapped.

The bird horse just snorted and went back to munching on grass. 

_ Beka, your mind is filled with such strange creatures! Maybe that’s lucky for me, though. I don’t seem so strange to you. _

Yuri fell to his knees at the water’s edge.  _ I should just wake up, too. At least then, I can watch over him...  _ He looked at one of the sharp white tree trunks sticking out of the agate green water and called on it to invoke the Tree.

_ You have reached the Tree of Life. Guides are standing by to assist you. _

“I need a guide,” Yuri said.

He noticed a woman in a red tunic was now sitting next to him. He drew back in surprise.

“What are you doing here? Wait a minute...the Tree never sends me human guides. I don’t understand...”

Aruzhan shrugged. “I only go where I’m invited.” She grinned, so painfully similar to Otabek’s grin. “Besides, didn’t you yourself say not to question the Tree?”

Yuri groaned. “Yeah. I did, didn’t I.” He found himself wearing his tunic and crown again.

“So, where am I taking you?” Aruzhan asked.

“I don’t know!” Yuri scowled and threw his hands up. “If I knew I wouldn’t have asked for a guide! Oh, forty hells…” He felt a tear run down his cheek.

“Yuri...are you sure you want to wake up?” she asked in a delicate voice. “Don’t you think it might do you better to stay here for a little while? After all, this place is saturated in Otabek’s soul. His memories are everywhere. And I think he would quite like it if you got to know him in this way.”

“Yeah...I suppose...you’re right.” Yuri hated the way tears fell without his permission. “I just...I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just don’t feel like being alone.” He folded his arms and squinted his eyes shut.

“You know, if you are determined to go back to your body, not even the Tree can stop you. But it’s a much smoother journey with the Tree’s help.” 

_ Some guide you are _ ! Yuri thought.  _ What’s all this back and forth? All the others just give me a straight answer. No one questions the Tree!  _

“I want to go back,” Yuri said. “I want to be there when he wakes up.” He shook his head. “I know he thinks he’s going to remember, but he’s not...” more tears dropped into the water. Perfect circles.

Aruzhan stood up, and walked some distance out across the water’s surface. “Yuri, may I have your thread?”

“What? Oh.” He looked up. “Yes.”

She held the thin silver cord that led to him in her hand. For a moment, her voice blended with the omniscient voice of the Tree. 

_ To return to your body, step forward. _

Yuri shut his eyes and obeyed. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are changing for Yuri in ways he doesn't expect. When he follows Otabek to work, he discovers Otabek has more friends, and unfortunately more enemies, than he imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I was so wrong about how these last few weeks were going to go. Crazy. I wanted to add so much more to this. This coming week, hopefully.

When Yuri returned to the living room, he saw Otabek standing in the corner, looking shaken and pale. His hair stood up, slightly cowlicked, and his eyes looked dark. Otabek poured himself a small glass of a clear-colored spirit from another decanter and downed it quickly, then cleared his throat.

“What _are_ you?” he said to the doll, his voice hoarse. “This is the third night in a row that you haunt me. So, are you some devil? Some incubus, some cursed thing like Anya says?” He wiped his face on the sleeve of his heavy cardigan and set to pouring another glass.

Yuri stood in the middle of the room, furious, but worried. Yuri was still a ghost, and even though Otabek was awake in his physical body, he looked more frail and ghostlike than ever to Yuri. Such a wild contrast to the solar, heroic figure from the dream! Yuri was beyond the point of thinking to himself, and instead shouted as loud as his astral form would allow. “Beka, what are you talking about?! You know me! You know exactly what I am! Why are you talking nonsense like this?”

As Yuri yelled, a stack of paper blew off the low table in front of the sofa. Otabek looked at it, frozen. The windows were shut, and there was no draft.

“What are you, demon? Show yourself,” Otabek said, his hand shaking as he poured his drink.

“Beka! How can you talk to me like this? After everything you said, you swore you would remember!” Yuri clenched his astral hands into fists and screamed.

A framed print fell off the wall behind Otabek, and he started at the sound of the breaking glass. 

“I am a madman,” he whispered.

“You know what, Beka? Yes! You are! You are mad! For not believing me, and not remembering what you said!” Yuri screamed, and Otabek looked straight through him.

“I am a madman.” His voice wavered.

“Beka, just stop, all right? Just go back to bed!” Yuri threw his astral arms around Otabek, and felt him flinch and go still. Otabek dropped the glass, and it cracked in two against the wood floor.

“Beka, please. Just go back to sleep. Please. You aren’t crazy.” Yuri clung to Otabek as tightly as he could. It was so strange to feel Otabek’s body shiver, given how solid and strong it had felt in the dream. “Please...go back to sleep,” Yuri whispered in Otabek’s ear. 

Otabek ran his hands through his hair and rubbed his face. Yuri followed him back into the bedroom and sat perched on the edge of the bed as Otabek lay down. Any other time, Yuri would have called on Lilia or his grandfather to ask them what to do. But with them unable to hear him, that left only the Tree. 

_Good evening. You have reached the Tree of Life. Traveling is not advised for you at this time._

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Yuri scowled. 

_Guides are standing by to assist you._

"Then send me one!" Yuri crossed his arms and watched as no thread emerged from Otabek's chest. 

He remembered one of his first memories from his life on Earth. He'd gone with his grandfather to watch over a den of rabbits, a few of which had fallen ill. The whole den didn't dream that night, they stayed close by to each other to expedite the healing. 

"Yuri," he heard Aruzhan's voice again but couldn't see her. "He isn't going to dream again tonight. The Tree is telling you to stay with him."

"Why not? Is he sick?" Yuri still wasn't sure which feeling was winning in his heart: anger or fear. "How can he be ill when he was perfectly fine earlier?" 

"Fear is like poison to humans," the voice said. "It can absolutely make them sick."

"But what is he afraid of?" Yuri threw his hands in the air. 

He felt the familiar gold light in the room. "Yuri, humans aren't used to encountering beings like you. Most of them never will, in many lifetimes. You have to understand, it's quite strange for them. For some, it's truly terrifying."

"But I thought…" Yuri was confused. Otabek seemed so at ease in the temple, and he conjured Yuri's mandala perfectly from memory in his dream space of the lake. _But I thought he wanted me._

There was a moment of stillness. 

"It's been a very long time since Otabek got something he truly wanted, Yuri. For some people, that is the most terrifying thing of all."

Yuri felt the light fade, but something similar to it lingered near Otabek, and Yuri couldn't quite tell if it was his presence, or Aruzhan's. In some ways, they were so alike. 

Yuri collapsed his wings and lay down on his side next to Otabek. He conjured pillars of astral ice and turned the room into a tiny temple. He didn't sense any errant spirits or noxious influences nearby, but nothing would get past the structure he created for Otabek. 

Yuri ran his astral hand lightly over Otabek’s hair. For all the confusion and contempt Yuri felt around humans, was Otabek really any different from those little rabbits? Didn’t all animals need stillness and darkness from time to time? Yuri tried to remember what his grandfather told him. “The body knows what to do. If you give it the right conditions, it will heal.” But Yuri was more concerned about Otabek’s mind, and wondered if the conditions he’d created would be enough to bring him back to a state of balance in the morning. Yuri remembered the mother rabbit and the anguish she felt. Yuri hadn’t felt afraid, and he couldn’t completely understand why she was so restless, in the way he felt restless now. 

Then a troubling thought crossed his mind. If he had to choose between seeing Otabek happy in life and having Otabek remember him, which one would he choose? 

_I suppose...I would rather have him forget about me and be happy and at peace than know what I am and feel troubled and insane. I want him to know me, but it’s not worth it for him to know if it only causes him misery._

_I don’t know what to do._

_If seeing visions and having dreams make him ill, then it has to stop. Perhaps once I’m free from this curse, I’ll have to find some spell to make him forget._

Yuri prayed it would never come to that. He etched his intentions into the ice in an ancient language of hexagonal runes until the room was filled with a soft glow of temple light. 

  
  


❄

When the sun seeped in through the windows at dawn, the astral ice had melted, as it was meant to. Yuri lay on the bed in a state of deep meditation when Otabek stirred, groaning at the sound of the loud church bells announcing the hour from across the square. 

Yuri sat up, startled. The silver cord still connected him to the doll, but he watched the sun peek over the rooftops and found himself free--almost. 

_Something is definitely different. Something is definitely changing…_

He floated into the living room and saw Otabek’s notebook open to a different page. The writing was rapid and scratchy, not the elegant calligraphy from before. There was a rough sketch of Otabek’s palm with the snowflake emblem etched into it, a little drawing of a light haired-figure levitating over a pool, and two more figures entwined in a tight embrace.

_Otabek! You did remember!_

Yuri felt profoundly confused. He hovered in the air, dumbstruck, while Otabek rushed to wash up and get dressed. 

“Shit,” Otabek muttered to himself. “How did I sleep so late? God, I’m going to be late…” He threw on a crisp white shirt and tucked it in hastily, pulled a heavy sweater from a drawer and scrambled to put it on. He threw the journal into his satchel. As he wrapped his gray scarf around his neck, he looked at the doll on the desk and sighed. “There is absolutely no reason...for me to bring this cursed thing with me.” He stood and blinked for a moment, then shook his head. “Oh, whatever. At least it will give Christophe a laugh and maybe he can determine for me once and for all whether I really am crazy.” Otabek carefully placed the doll in his bag, took his keys from a brass hook by the door, and rushed down the stairs.

❄

The morning city reminded Yuri of an anthill. It was a crisp, clear morning: one that made him miss his lake bitterly, but the city still looked dry and gray to him. He flew a short distance behind Otabek as he walked. At least a few of the women wore colorful shawls that broke up the monotony of the crowd. Yuri spotted a bright flash of color through a window of a flower shop and hung his head. Otabek passed by an open air market, and Yuri noticed baskets of deep red forest berries and mushrooms in all shapes and sizes.

“Beka! Beka! You should get some of the berries! They’re really good and they’re good for you, too!” Yuri knew it was useless. But at least trying to shout to Beka below was entertaining. A few times, Otabek even looked around as if he’d heard something. Since the doll was in Otabek’s bag, the silver thread led to Otabek, and Yuri decided it was much more pleasant to imagine that the cord led to Otabek himself.

A guard standing at a small, wrought-iron gate at a side entrance to the military academy nodded tersely to Otabek and allowed him inside. Yuri supposed the building was meant to look impressive. Otabek walked across a long courtyard flanked by arcades of columns that to Yuri were just a very poor substitute for a grove of trees. The one thing he did like was the giant statue in the center of the yard. He couldn’t have cared less about the men, but the horses were very nicely rendered. Humans had a funny habit of preserving things after they’d died in such a way. 

Yuri followed Otabek down a long corridor with a checkered floor that was far more ominous and grim than any cave Yuri had ever encountered. Otabek drew a key from his pocket and unlocked the door to a long, narrow office, with tall windows that looked out over the courtyard.

 _Thank God he’s got some sunlight!_ Yuri thought. The thought of Otabek being trapped in a tiny, dark office like a box made Yuri shudder. 

Papers were strewn everywhere, stacked up in huge piles that made sense only to Otabek. To Yuri’s surprise, there were far more than just drawings of war machines. Sketches of musical instruments stood in their own stack; there were drawings of animals and their skeletons, studies in natural movement. Otabek placed the doll next to a music box and a ship in a bottle. 

“All right then,” he said quietly. “Let’s find out whether you are a devil or a muse.” He winked at the doll and opened a drawer to fetch a penknife and a pencil. 

Yuri looked at Otabek's drawing of a rifle and then at the lightweight balsa wood model that Otabek was carefully carving and shaping. A gun was a completely useless object in Yuri's mind (no fairy had ever had to go to war, to his knowledge), but he was completely engrossed as he watched Otabek draw. Where had the images come from? This wasn't a conjuration space in a dream, and Otabek couldn't will forms to appear the way Yuri could create them out of ice. 

Yuri looked out into the courtyard. No such object as a palace existed in nature. Humans had made them up somehow, and then brought them into being without the help of magic. Yuri thought that was one thing he could come to like about humans. Sure, some of them seemed like little more than animals walking upright. But Yuri liked music, and he liked drawings. He liked the ice skates he'd stolen. He watched Otabek pore over a sketch and liked that Otabek had a creative mind. 

Otabek held up the model rifle and tested how it braced against his shoulder. 

_If only I had my physical body back_ , Yuri thought. _I could make models of things out of ice and keep them frozen. I could help you work faster, and then you could have more time for your musical instruments and your nature drawings. The really useful things._

There was a knock on the door. "Come in," Otabek said. An older man with blondish hair peeked his head in. There was something strangely familiar about him, Yuri thought, as if maybe he'd seen him in a dream before. The lines in the man's face were harsh, but Yuri imagined he'd been handsome in his youth. 

"Altin, are you coming out for the field tests this afternoon?" 

Otabek turned around in his chair. "Yes, I was planning on it. Why do you ask?" 

The man smiled like a cat that had just eaten a canary. "I think you will be most pleased with how the new short-range cannons are coming along."

Otabek looked surprised. "They're already done? I thought Raditsev's shipment of steel was a week behind."

Yakov raised an eyebrow. "Not for the General. He pulled some strings for you. In any case, I have a carriage leaving at four."

"Ah, thank you. I'll see you then."

Yakov nodded and shut the door. When he was out of earshot, Leo flung it back open and stepped in. "You're coming to the field tests, right?" he had a wild, excited expression. 

"Yes? What's this about?" 

Leo looked down the hall, then turned back to Otabek. "I've finally got it! The Red Lotus!" 

Otabek turned his head, uncertain. 

"That firework I've been trying to recreate," Leo said. "Stay a little bit later out at the fields, won't you? Nikiforov is coming to see it, too. If he likes it he's going to commission a bunch of them as a birthday gift for the Tsar."

"Are you serious? That's quite an honor! You're moving up in the world, Leo."

"Well don't speak too soon, he hasn't seen them yet. But I want you to see it, too. If it works it's going to be glorious."

Yuri looked at Leo, perplexed. He had no idea what a firework was, but the salamander on Leo's shoulder leapt up and down with excitement at the mention of it. 

❅

When it was time for Otabek to take a break, he found Leo again in the dining room on the upper floor of the building. A huge glass winter garden occupied the roof, and the two sat down at a small table that was slightly obscured by a couple of potted trees. _How odd to keep trees inside,_ Yuri thought, but it was infinitely better than having no plants at all. _What if I got a couple of trees like this for Otabek's office?_ Yuri wondered. _Would they get enough light?_

Leo seemed completely oblivious to the salamander's presence, and it irked Yuri. The salamander was focusing the heat from the sun into Leo and Otabek's corner of the room, and looked serenely happy. _If you do all these things for him, why not show yourself?_ But then Yuri remembered how shaken Otabek had been the night before. Otabek had yet to see him in his true physical form. To Otabek, Yuri was still nothing more than a dream. Maybe the salamander knew better than to make himself known, and Yuri should follow suit. 

Yuri noticed two men leaving the room. They looked back at Otabek and Leo with disgusted and skeptical expressions. Yuri found them both vile looking. One was short with a wide face, and looked to Yuri like an egg with feet. The other was tall and gangly with a shock of unruly red hair. Their gazes did not escape Leo. 

"Your secret admirers," Leo said. 

Otabek glanced over his shoulder. "I don't know what's gotten into them today, usually they're much less subtle about how much they detest me."

"Those two would hate anyone in your position. You've got another weapon patent under your belt, and the two of them together can barely design a cart to carry it. No wonder Gorky is so bitter."

Otabek looked at the table with a grim expression. 

Leo swirled his tea around in its glass. "And Petukhov is just a cock."

Otabek groaned. "He's only here because of his father. Yakov himself says a dimwit like that just brings the institution down, but that his hands are tied and there's no way to get rid of him.”

Leo twirled the end of his moustache thoughtfully. “Well, someone like that...perhaps his own stupidity will eventually do him in.”

Otabek laughed much louder than he meant to, earning him a few disgruntled stares from across the dining room. 

Yuri felt a wave of intuition, that maybe the gangly man was not as harmless as he looked. He didn’t want to leave Otabek, but he stepped away from the table, and seeing him looking golden and content in the salamander’s reflection of the sun, clicked his fingers and flew off down the hallway behind the awkward pair. 

They passed by Otabek’s office, and looked inside. Yuri flew in behind them. _Hey! What the hell are you doing? Get out of here!_

“What is this garbage he collects?” Gorky picked up a carved model of a horse and looked it over, then put it back down on the desk. He picked up the doll. “Children’s toys in his office?”

Petukhov shrugged, leafing through a stack of papers. “I’m sure he’ll say it ‘inspires’ him, or some rot like that.” 

Gorky made a face as he looked at the rows of objects on the windowsill, not terribly different from the kinds of things that filled Otabek’s apartment: unusual and pretty specimens of minerals and geodes, carved figures from stone and wood, pressed botanicals under glass.

Gorky sneered. “Almost looks like a witch’s house, with all these plants and shit.”

Petukhov raised an eyebrow.

“What?” Gorky’s nostrils flared when he was confused.

Petukhov grinned. Yuri thought his teeth were all slightly too small for his mouth. “Makes it sound like our friend here made a pact with the devil to get some of his designs.”

Gorky chuckled without making a sound. “I like how you think. You’re giving me ideas.”

“Hey! Get out of his office, you giant maggot!” Yuri screamed silently. He shoved Gorky’s shoulders, and to his surprise, his astral hands didn’t pass straight through him. Gorky gasped and stumbled back a few paces. His face drained of color. 

“What’s the matter?” Petukhov asked.

“Did--did you feel that? Something was there…”

“What are you talking about?”

Gorky looked around the room, livid. 

“Hey, what’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” Petukhov nudged Gorky’s shoulder. Yuri gave him a swift kick to the back of his neck, and he yelped like a dog. “What the hell?” He spun around, a horrified look on his face. “There’s no one here!”

“Aha! You felt it too?” Gorky’s eyes were wide and bulging.

“Let’s get out of here. Something is not right here.” Petukhov’s voice was creaky and shaky.

Yuri stood in the doorframe with his hands on his hips, satisfied to see the two men scramble out into the hallway. But then a bolt of worry struck him. What did they really think about Otabek?

Yuri turned and looked at the desk. He couldn’t move the chair; he couldn’t pick up a stone paperweight in the shape of a pyramid. But he could lift individual pieces of paper.

 _I don’t understand, this isn’t even my physical body. Only strange and ancient ghosts can do things like this._ He lifted up a drawing and held it to the light; the sun shone through the parchment. _Is the curse really getting weaker? Maybe Kerebos is a much weaker sorcerer than I thought. Or maybe--_

He heard Otabek and Leo’s voices approaching down the hall. Leo took his leave and disappeared into his laboratory. When Otabek stepped back into the office, Yuri dropped the sheet of paper, and it wafted gently back down onto the desk. Otabek looked fearful and grave.

“Someone...something has been in here…” He looked around the room to see if anything was missing. Yuri placed his hands on Otabek’s shoulders, and Otabek stopped. 

“Please, please don’t be afraid,” Yuri whispered in his ear, and Otabek shivered. He kissed Otabek’s cheek and threw his arms around him. 

Otabek sighed deeply. “Yuri…”

 _Yes! I’m right here!_ Yuri looked frantically around the room for something he could move to give Otabek another sign. A corner of one of the tables was covered in dust. Yuri drew in it with his fingernail: a new mandala, one about calm and peace of mind.

Otabek stood still as he watched the snowflake emblem emerge on the table. A few tears spilled from the corners of his eyes. Otabek stepped slowly, tentatively over to the table, and held up his palm. “Yuri…”

Yuri pressed his hand against Otabek’s, and it made the hair on the back of Otabek’s neck stand up.

“I told you I would help you, and I will,” Otabek said. “Please, just be patient with me.”

Neither of them noticed Petukhov in the hallway, peering in through the crack in the door.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek gets an unexpected visitor in a dream space, and tries to make things up to Yuri after his hasty departure from the night before.

Yuri thought that the worst thing he’d ever heard in his entire life was the sound of Kerebos wailing. But that was before he’d heard the sound of Otabek’s cannons. Standing with Beka, Leo, and Yakov at the edge of a long field on the outskirts of Vaselkovo, he felt as if his astral form might rip in two at the sound. Leo’s salamander wasn’t very proficient in working with sound, it seemed, and he looked dejected and helpless as the men recoiled from the explosions, even with the awkward contraptions that covered their ears to protect them. 

Yuri flew high into the air. Maybe some sylph, some wise wind elemental could help? But the testing ground was a desolate place. Yuri spotted no gnomes tending to the grass: a very bad sign indeed. At the far end of the field, decimated targets and exploded hay bales lay wasted. Yuri sensed that this place had been abandoned by elementals a long time ago. His grandfather had told him about the gnomes that were tasked with recovering battlefields. Restoring the lost balance was grueling hard work. 

_ Oh God _ , Yuri thought, _ is this really his world? _ He looked down at Otabek. Yakov clapped him proudly on the back. A short distance down the hill beneath them, two soldiers fired off another round, and the remaining piles of hay at the edge of the forest exploded. There were no birds in the nearby trees. Even the grass seemed reluctant to grow. Yuri felt the Earth beneath him cringe and sigh at the sound. He let himself hang in the air for a moment. 

_ I want to stay with him and help him, but my God, is this really his livelihood? Tormenting the Earth like this? _ Yuri wondered if single bullets had as devastating of an effect as the cannon shot. He imagined the sorrow of the metal casings returning to the Earth. 

_ What am I thinking? Staying with him isn’t even a question. I have to get back to my lake!  _

Yuri clicked his fingers and let himself fall back down onto Otabek's shoulder like a snowflake. Leo's salamander sat up suddenly, perplexed, as though he'd seen something. 

Yuri rolled over lazily onto his side. "Oh, what, now you can see me?" Yuri asked. "Hey!" he waved and shouted. "Hey, flame boy! Over here!" 

The salamander was still confused. Yuri blew a gust of cold wind in his direction. This time, it had an effect: the little flame around him went out for a second. He promptly started it up again, and looked around for the culprit, unnerved. 

_ I guess that wasn't very nice of me _ , Yuri thought. He imagined how cross he'd be if someone melted his wings and he had to re-sprout them.  _ But still, this is just maddening! _ He lay on his belly like a slug. 

The setting sun glowed red behind the jagged line of dark trees, and it reminded Yuri of blood spilling onto the ground. He’d watched foxes and wolves hunt, even seen a few human hunters strike a deer for food in his native woods. Killing and eating was a part of life. But the cannons seemed so sinister and cruel, and Yuri’s mind turned the question over and over again like polishing a stone. What made this so different from a wolf’s fangs or a hunter’s arrow? And what did it mean about Otabek? Yuri pictured him the way he looked standing in the temple, like a centaur. Horses were peaceful creatures by nature, and the centaurs in the myths he knew were students of astrology, not warriors. 

As night fell, Otabek and the others retreated into a little tavern at the edge of the nearby village which was overwhelmed with the General's bombastic presence. Just as Otabek, Leo, and Yakov sat down to eat, Nikiforov threw open the door with Katsuki in tow.  _ Great. This fellow again. And I can still barely understand a word he says.  _

Yuri caught glimpses of what the men spoke of: a program to train soldiers in how to use the new cannons. And the General went on and on about how talented Otabek was.  _ Clearly, you and I like him for different reasons _ , Yuri thought. Then he noticed the way Nikiforov’s eyes seemed to stroke Otabek’s body as he talked.  _ Ok...maybe some reasons are the same.  _ Yuri felt a cold flame of jealousy again. _ Hey! You have your history weasel and just about anyone else you could possibly want, right? So leave Otabek to me! _

After what seemed like an endless meal, tankards of kvass and a cauldron of borscht, Yakov took his leave, and Leo led them back outside. Yuri could sense how tense Otabek was from the cold, and that he was trying, successfully, not to show it.  _ Ah, Beka, you should have brought your heavy coat, not just your jacket!  _ He draped his arms around Otabek, even though he knew it would be no use. He felt Otabek sigh under the suggestion of Yuri’s weight. _ If only you could hear me, I could have warned you it was going to get colder tonight. _

_ I guess I could learn a few things about keeping a human warm, couldn't I? _ Yuri thought. _ It wouldn't be  _ completely _ against my nature, would it? It's just magic. Elementals are supposed to protect other creatures, aren't they?  _

But once Leo began his display, Otabek lost awareness of his body, too distracted by Leo's work. And Yuri, too, couldn't help but stare. A bright spark, like tightly coiled lightning, traveled down a long fuse, and sent seven projectiles high into the air. The salamander hovered up above, watching over the process. 

The seven dark packets exploded into giant glittering red petals with gold points at the ends that each produced another seven vivid flowers. The centers of each of them sent down long gold trails like roots. The shock of the sound wasn’t nearly as bad as the cannon fire, though it still made Yuri shudder. He was dazzled: no such thing existed in nature, but Yuri found it beautiful. He supposed it was like a drawing in the air, artwork of Leo’s made of chemical fire.

Leo set off another round as the General and his minion chattered to each other in amazement. Then Yuri realized something: the firework was a mandala. The salamander was deep in concentration, willing the sparks to emerge in perfect timing. Yuri stared at the shape in the sky and felt the message behind it: an invocation to find the sun within.  _ The ‘sun within’?  _

Yuri knew that salamanders worshipped the sun, and why wouldn’t they? They were endlessly in love with the source of all fire. Yuri looked at Leo.  _ Well, he does have a special solar quality to him. _ He looked at the afterimage left by the smoke and caught the feeling of the mandala one more time.  _ My God _ , Yuri thought.  _ This little salamander really loves humans, doesn’t he? Especially Leo! He really wants them to become something more. Something glorious...  _

Yuri leaned against Otabek.  _ So, Salamander, you think the humans have the sun inside them?  _ He sensed Otabek’s heartbeat and the heat that radiated from his body. The cold wind was beginning to pick up and carry the smoke away.  _ Well, without the light from the sun, no one would ever know how beautiful ice is... _

Yuri scowled as he watched the salamander drift back down onto Leo’s shoulder. _ If only you could hear me, you little bastard! I have things I need to talk to you about! I need you to tell me… _ Yuri felt a creeping sense of despair surround him once again. He felt the intense pain in his chest again that he couldn’t explain. He climbed back inside the folds of Otabek’s scarf. 

_ What can an ice creature possibly do for a being who has to discover his own fire? _

  
  


❄

Otabek stood up gingerly and left his sleeping body on the bed.  _ You’ve had quite a day, haven’t you, you poor bastard? _ He looked at his sleeping form. He reached up and touched his astral head: his crown of gold feathers was still there. Good. But where was Yuri? 

The sight of the moving pages and moving dust in his office at first filled Otabek with so much fear that he thought he might lose consciousness. As he collected himself, a bright beam of hope poured through him, like the sky opening up after a storm. It was all undeniably real. He hadn’t been making it up. There really was some mystical force at work in his life, and the entire day afterward, he’d felt an unshakable sense of something with him in the room, like a faint light that he could just barely see from the corner of his eye, or something touching his shoulder.

Otabek had set the doll on the night table, and he saw the infinite silver thread, no wider than spiders’ silk, stretch off into the distance, out the window.  _ Already dreaming? He left without me? _ Otabek stood for a moment and felt his spine.

_ You have reached the Tree of Life.  _

Otabek didn’t think to ask for a guide. Instead he looked at his palm, and focused on the emblem that was etched into it. _ Take me to wherever Yuri is, if I’m allowed to go there. And if I’m not, then take me somewhere that will help me figure out how to help him.  _

_ As you wish. To proceed, step forward.  _

🝢

Otabek’s hooves compressed the deep snow beneath them, but he didn’t feel cold. Instead the snow felt like a sparkling, silken powder that caressed his feet as he walked. He could tell that the wind was icy, but it felt fresh and invigorating to him.  _ This must be what Yuri feels. _

_ Now where is he?  _

The horizon was pale pink and yellow, and at its zenith the sky was bright white. Otabek wasn’t sure if it was sunrise or sunset in this place, or if perhaps there was no sun at all, and something else created the light here. He stood at the top of a hill, and looked down onto a frozen lake whose surface shimmered in the pale light. All around him were tall, slender birch trees whose branches wore thin, careful lines of snow, and hosted long strings of icicles that glowed against the sky. 

Otabek walked leisurely down the hill. Interspersed between the trees were columns and obelisks made of ice that were covered in hexagonal runes. Otabek sensed he could stare at them for centuries and never decode them. Then he noticed something about the trees: the birch ‘eyes’ moved as he walked, following him. They blinked slowly, here and there. The entire forest was watching him. 

Otabek reached the frozen water’s edge, and a silvery portal opened up in the sky. A little figure came tumbling out of it, and slid across the ice until he nearly collided with Otabek’s centaur legs. 

Otabek stepped back. “Are you all right?” He reached down. The little boy who grabbed his hand to stand back up had a mop of curly black hair with a tweed cap clamped over it, dark freckles, and shining black eyes. He looked around, confused for a moment, but hardly blinking Then his face spread into a wide smile. 

“I think so,” he said. He cocked his head to the side. “Hey, what’s your name?” His movements were quick and jerky, and he seemed to be able to turn his neck around much farther than a normal boy. 

“My name is Otabek.”

The boy put his hands on his hips and looked Otabek up and down. “Wow, I’ve never met anyone like you before! A horse person! How grand! Are you a magician?” Otabek noticed that the black vest he wore had a pattern of little bird feet embroidered on it. 

“At times,” he said. “In some places. Not here, it seems.” He glanced at his tattooed palm, but couldn’t conjure any objects. “And what is your name?”

“Oh! I’m called Fedya!” The boy said. Then his face fell. “Oh no, wait, that isn’t how they say it. My name is, um...Fyodor...Voronich…” he scrunched up his face, “Voronov!” He shouted. He made a little flourish with his hand and folded into a deep bow. Otabek was impressed that his hat remained on his head. He jumped back up. “But you can call me Fedya!”

Otabek bowed and tried not to laugh. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Fedya.”

Fedya stood on his toes. “Say, Otabek, are you a friend of Yuri’s?” 

Otabek smiled.  _ Well, I don’t know what else to call what I am to him. _ “I am.”

“Do you know where I can find him?” Fedya blinked rapidly. 

“I...I’m sorry, Fedya. I don’t. I came here looking for him myself. I’m not sure where Yuri is.” 

The little boy slouched. He looked to Otabek almost more like a marionette than an actual child. “Oh dear. That’s no good. No good at all.” He shook his hanging head, then looked back up at Otabek with anguish. “I was told I’d find him here for sure!”

Otabek was perplexed by Fedya, and seeing the strange, upset little boy made him realize he knew so little about where Yuri came from, and where he would need to return. “I think he might be nearby,” Otabek said. He hoped that concealing his own concern would calm Fedya down, rather than make it seem as if he didn’t care. Children did such a poor job of hiding their emotions, but Otabek realized he’d been practicing from a very young age.

“Are you sure? Do you really think he’s here?” Fedya balled his hands into fists. “Oh, he has to be! You see, I’ve been looking for him for days!” He was on the verge of tears.

“You have?”

“Yes! Yuri went missing, and nobody knows what’s happened to him!” He grabbed onto the edges of his hat and pulled it down. “And just look at this place! It looks like the kind of place Yuri would love!”

“It certainly does,” Otabek said. He knelt down in the snow so that the boy didn’t have to crane his neck up so far. “Hey, Fedya...If you don’t mind my asking, how do you know Yuri?” Otabek wondered what family, what life Yuri might have abandoned. 

Fedya had unusually large eyes, even for a child. “Well, Yuri’s been my friend since I was an egg! I mean--” He gasped and clamped his hand over his mouth. Then he started to laugh. The curls in his hair flattened out, and the locks turned into long, iridescent feathers. Fedya’s fingers lengthened and turned shining and black. For a moment, his face still looked human. “I’m sorry,” he said, still giggling. “I thought it might give Yuri a laugh if I tried looking like a human. But I’m the one who can’t seem to stop laughing!” The boy’s human body vanished, and a little crow stood in the snow in front of Otabek, still wearing a tiny cap and vest. Otabek reached out his hand, and the crow hopped into it. 

“I’ve just started learning how to dreamwalk,” Fedya said. “I’ve only ever tried it a few times. Yuri’s grandfather gave me a spell to try, to look like a human when I came here.” The bird sank down into a little fluffy ball and squinted his eyes shut. “I was really hoping Yuri would see it.” 

Otabek noticed the lazily blinking trees again. He stood up and walked with Fedya in his hand. Then Fedya flew up to sit on Otabek’s shoulder.  _ That has to have been Yuri that I felt _ , Otabek realized. He’d sensed something on his shoulder all day. 

“Hey, Otabek, how do you know Yuri?” 

Otabek wondered for a moment what he could possibly say to the bird who was still very much a child in spirit. “Well...I sort of...met him by accident, actually,” Otabek said. “I had, um...drank some poison, and well, Yuri gave me an antidote. It was very lucky.”

“Oh, really? When did this happen?”

“Not too long ago.” Otabek realized it hadn’t been that long at all, in waking time. But he felt like he’d known Yuri for much longer. The spaces in dreams felt so different from ordinary time, and Otabek wished he could stretch them out even more, to spend more time with Yuri and justify his attachment to him. “It was just a few days ago. I think it might have been soon after Yuri disappeared. You see, he’s been under a curse, and part of the problem is that only humans have been able to hear him.”

Fedya flapped his wings and hovered in the air in front of Otabek.

“What’s the matter?” Otabek asked. 

“You mean you’re a human?!” 

Otabek reached out and let Fedya land on his fingers. “What do you mean?”

“That’s very funny, but I don’t believe you!” Fedya said. “Not for an instant!”

Otabek was very confused. “Well, look...Yuri’s been trying to reach his family, but it hasn’t worked. Not everyone can see him. So far it’s only been myself, a couple of witches, and a very peculiar cat.” Otabek tried to explain Yuri’s predicament, his confinement during the day, and his restriction to speaking in dreams. 

“Oh dear. That sounds terrible! And you said a witch did this to him?” 

“Yes,” Otabek said. “But I can’t remember what the witch’s name is.”

“I see!” Fedya hopped up and puffed out his feathers with determination. “Well I’m going to tell Lilia and Kolya right away! Maybe they’ll know what to do!”

“I’m sorry, who?” 

But Fedya had already called on the Tree and had started to vanish before he could answer. 

Otabek stood alone in the silent woods.  _ What an odd little fellow. But maybe both of us can find this place again, if he comes up with some solution... _

An eye on a birch tree in front of Otabek looked at him. Otabek saw that it was pale green instead of black. He recognized it at once. 

“Yuri, is that you?”

The eyelid lowered halfway. 

_ It has to be him. _ “Won’t you quit hiding and come on out?”

The green iris rolled back into the trunk and vanished. The white bark of the tree began to liquify and warp, melting down until a human figure stood in its place. At first it looked like a thin old man with long white hair and a long beard, but the figure was rapidly becoming younger. The man’s face softened and his body solidified until it was clearly Yuri. He wore a long white cloak lined in a thick white fur. Yuri stretched his wings out behind him, letting them catch the light, then folded them back down. 

“Have you been here this whole time?” Otabek crossed his arms. 

“Of course,” Yuri said. “I can see through any of the trees here.”

“And are you going to tell me what this place is?” 

When Yuri rolled his eyes, the trees did likewise. “Forest of Knowing? What else would it be?” He started down a path that led along the edge of the lake.

“Well, excuse me for not remembering,” Otabek said. 

“You seem to have forgotten quite a lot on your journeys through the spheres,” Yuri said.

“Yuri,” Otabek caught Yuri’s shoulder. “Why are you being like this? What’s with you? Are you mad at me?”

Yuri glanced back for a second, then kept walking.

“Is this about last night? Are you still upset with me about that?”

Yuri’s eyes narrowed. “Well, wouldn’t you be, if you were me?” He stopped and grit his teeth. “I missed you, ok?”

Otabek sighed and wrapped his arms around Yuri from behind. He was quite a bit taller as a centaur. Yuri started to move again, but Otabek held him still. “Why didn’t you come out and talk to Fedya? He was worried sick about you.”

“I tried to!” Yuri said. “But you were right, he can’t hear me at all.” Yuri sighed. He relaxed and draped himself against Otabek’s torso. “So it’s good that you told him what you did. He won’t be so panicked if he knows I’m not alone. So it’s good that he knows about you.”

Yuri stood pressed against Otabek for a moment, then he kept walking, and Otabek couldn’t tell where they were going. Still, he felt relieved that his presence would make at least one thing easier for Yuri’s family.

“Yuri, who are Lilia and Kolya?” 

“Hm?”

“Fedya said he was going to find them.”

“I mean, I’ll tell you, if you want,” Yuri said, without looking back. 

Otabek strode up next to him, and walked with his hand resting on Yuri’s back. “Of course I want you to tell me, it bothers me that I don’t know more about you.” Otabek was still unsure of where Yuri was leading them. The path led up a different hill.

“Well, all right. I don’t really have a family, the way humans do. In fact, I don’t completely remember where I come from." Yuri looked sternly at the ground as he walked, and Otabek sensed that he felt disgusted with himself. "So it's rich of me to chide you for forgetting what you once were." He looked up at the sky. "Lilia is the one who caught me. She told me a star fell at dawn on the last day of winter, twenty years ago. She caught it, and she told me I emerged from it."

Yuri looked to Otabek as if he didn't totally believe his own story. He couldn't figure out what it meant to Yuri, whether he was proud or ashamed. 

"Lilia is an undine, a water spirit," Yuri said. He gently brushed a low branch out of his way, and a few sparkling flakes of frost drifted off into the air. "She's the queen of the lake in Berezhovoye, but she isn't from there. She just appeared one day. There was no guardian, so she stepped in. There was a rumor that a young woman drowned herself in the lake, so for a long time the villagers avoided that area. But that never happened. Lilia let them believe that story so that people would leave her alone."

"If she wasn't from Berezhovoye, where did she come from?" Otabek asked. For a second, Otabek thought he saw one of the ice obelisks a short distance away begin to glow. When he looked again, it was back to normal.

"I don't know. She never said. Some other lake, I guess. She's not an ocean siren, I know that much. But I don't know why she left, either. Anyways, she's the one who teaches me magic. I guess you could say I'm her apprentice. Lakes freeze, so she saw no reason not to keep an ice fairy around."

Otabek wondered about this woman. Well, he supposed she wasn't necessarily a woman, and perhaps Yuri didn't need a mother the way a human child would. But he wondered if there was some parental warmth that had been missing in Yuri’s life, and if it might explain some of his difficult demeanor. Or maybe, he thought, he was just making assumptions. Or looking for some excuse to embrace Yuri again. 

“Kolya is my grandfather,” Yuri said, a smile returning to his face. “Not literally, but that’s how I think of him, so I call him ‘Grandpa.’ He thinks it suits him. When he turns human, he looks like an old man, anyways. He’s a gnome. An earth spirit who mostly works with trees and plants, though he’s also quite a specialist with mushrooms,” Yuri said proudly, as if admitting that Kolya were secretly a noble.

This time Otabek was sure that some of the ice pillars were lighting up and fading as Yuri spoke. 

“I guess you could say he raised me,” Yuri said. “I knew most of the ice magic I needed when I was born, it was an instinct, I guess. Everything else, I learned in the temple that you saw. I still can’t believe the Tree even let you in there, by the way.” Yuri looked up at him. “I’m not complaining, I’m just impressed.” 

Tall grasses between the trees wore a delicate coat of frost that glinted in the light. An extremely fine mist meandered through the trees in the distance. 

Otabek had a deep feeling of loss, and a sense of something just on the horizon of his memory that he couldn’t quite reach. “What about Fedya? Where did he come from?”

“Oh.” The smirk that appeared on Yuri’s face made Otabek smile. “Well, every now and then, Grandpa and I step in and help animals when they need it. Fedya wasn’t coming out of his egg, so Grandpa and I sang to him until he did.”

“You can sing?” Otabek’s face brightened. 

Yuri looked flustered. “Well, I mean, I can if I have to.”

“What do you mean, if you have to? Will you sing something for me?” Otabek asked.

“What? No,” Yuri said.

Otabek ruffled Yuri’s hair. “Oh, come on! Why not?”

Yuri scowled. “Because you’re not an egg.”

Otabek slouched. His hands dropped to his sides.

“Sorry, Beka, but I don’t do it for fun. The songs are for healing.” Yuri’s face was still slightly flushed.

“Yuri...what do you do for fun?” Otabek asked.

Yuri was thoughtful for a moment. “Sometimes I skate in the winter,” he said.

“Really? You ice skate? Like with actual skates and everything?” For a second Otabek wondered if that was why there was a lake here, with such a perfect, glass-like surface.

“My Grandpa got me a set of skates when I was little,” Yuri said. 

“It sounds like an awfully human thing to do,” Otabek said. A short distance away, he could see a blue structure between the trees.

“It is!” Yuri said, his eyes narrow. “That’s exactly why he got them for me. So I would feel some empathy for humans, I guess.”

As they walked deeper into the woods, Otabek noticed that some of the trees were connected by thin planes of ice. The horizon light shone through them like stained glass. There were images and patterns inside, some simple, some complicated. Trees, birds, landscapes. The little cells of ice shone different shades of blue, with different textures.

“What else do I do…” Yuri muttered. “I tried drawing with ice before you got here.” He shrugged and looked at the glowing ice-glass. Then his face peeled into a sly smile. “I consort with humans in dreams, apparently.”

“I was hoping you would bring that up,” Otabek said. He liked the cloak Yuri was wearing, but he was anxious to take it off of him. 

Yuri looked stern again. “It seems the Tree has other plans for us tonight, though.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Otabek stopped for a moment.

“The Tree sent you here as a centaur,” Yuri said. 

Otabek felt a kind of draining sensation pass through him. 

Yuri laughed. “Oh yes. I thought the same thing,” he said. He ran his hands down Otabek’s sides. “Trust me, I’ve hardly seen anything as beautiful as this divine body of yours. But, well, it’s not exactly an easy form to copulate with, is it?”

Embarrassment radiated from Otabek’s face. 

“And besides,” Yuri said, “You like far too much like an animal.”

Otabek looked down at his horse hooves. “Can...can I change it?”

Yuri shrugged. “I don’t know, can you?” 

Otabek sighed and looked at his palms. “There doesn’t seem to be much I can do here.” He tried to conjure a leaf from the air, but the air remained still. 

“Maybe I can do it,” Yuri said. “Follow me.” 

They reached the end of the path and stood at the entrance to a pavilion that looked out onto the frozen lake below. Thin columns of densely-frozen ice that looked like white marble held up a high, vaulted ceiling made of the same delicate stained glass that wove its way through the trees. The hexagonal patterns in the ceiling reminded Otabek of the inside of a mosque he saw as a child, but the shape of the room made him think of the chapel where he had spent so much time with Aruzhan and Gulnaz. 

The sound of Otabek’s hooves echoed gently. “This place is far too pretty for the things I want to do with you,” he said.

“Oh please,” Yuri said. “I built it, I can do whatever I want in it.” He looked coyly over his shoulder at Otabek, then stopped himself. “Well, in theory anyway. Let’s see if I can make you into something else I like.”

“I’m all yours,” Otabek said. “Do what you want with me.” 

Yuri smiled and raised his hand in the air. A long staff of ice with a pointed end emerged, and Yuri used it to trace a hexagon on the floor. The shape turned into silver liquid. 

Otabek stood behind Yuri and twirled a lock of his hair around his finger. “A portal? You’re sending me away?”

“It’s not a portal, it’s a pool,” Yuri said. “And if this spell works, I’ll have something to brag to Lilia about. Well, I won’t tell her  _ why _ I did it, I’ll just tell her I managed it.”

“Yuri…” Otabek rested his hands on Yuri’s shoulders. “Are there any rules or codes that keep fairies and humans apart in waking life? I mean, is there some reason she shouldn’t know about me?”

Yuri slouched forward. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t think so. If there were, surely I would have been told.” He looked up. “But if there is something...then I want to find a way to break it. Like with Kerebos’ curse.” He reached for Otabek’s hand. “Step into the pool,” he said.

“As you wish.” Otabek was hesitant, but wanted to prove to Yuri that he trusted him. As long as the silver thread remained intact, was there any harm in experimenting with magic? He took the crown of feathers off his head and handed it to Yuri. “Hold this for me.” 

He stepped into the shimmering pool and was instantly enveloped by light.

✧

Otabek felt his body dissolve. No body, no space, no time. Just light, like the inside of a star.

A feeling of loneliness and pain swept through him. But it wasn’t his. It belonged to the light. 

“Otabek!” He heard Yuri’s voice as if extremely distant. He wanted to call back to him, but couldn’t. There was no voice, no body to make any sound. He began to panic. He wanted so badly to say something, move, find Yuri. Suddenly he understood the misery that belonged to the light. An aching to reach out. A desperation to speak, to make itself known. 

To love something.

A longing and an urgency strong enough to pluck a star from the sky. 

Otabek suddenly felt himself falling. Whether he fell for a few seconds or a short eternity, he couldn’t say. 

He looked down and saw his own human feet. He was standing in a dark space. A short distance away, a figure sat on the endless ground with its arms around its knees, looking forlorn. It looked like a child. Otabek walked slowly over to it: a boy with pale skin and long light hair. Otabek tried to speak to him, but he still had no voice. He sat down in front of the figure, and the boy cautiously raised his head. Where his eyes should have been, there were two dark spaces filled with stars. The boy held out his hand, and Otabek touched it. 

He found himself immediately back in the ice chapel with Yuri.

✴

Otabek looked down at his body. He was naked and fully erect. “I see you’ve given me no clothes.” His voice had a fullness and richness to it that he wasn’t used to. He felt as though he’d been newly carved out of stone.

Yuri sat lounging in a fluffy snow bank, still holding the spear, illuminated by the pattern of blue light from the ceiling. His cloak had fallen open, and he wore nothing underneath it. “My intention was to see exactly what I wanted to see,” he said. He wore his predatory smile, and bathed Otabek with his eyes.

Otabek held out his hands. “Well? Are you satisfied with your creation?” He walked up to Yuri and stood with his hands on his hips.

“Almost,” Yuri said. “First I need to touch it and see if it’s real. Aren’t you going to come down here and sit with me?” His voice had a low, smooth, purr-like sound. 

Otabek looked at Yuri’s smiling face, just past the tip of his stiff, aching cock. “I thought you were going to give me one of those elegant cloaks, like you have.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “No.” He shook his head, still drinking in the sight of Otabek. “You have to share mine. I don’t like to share, but for you,” he raised an eyebrow, “I could make an exception.”

“Really, now?” Otabek knelt down in front of Yuri and began slipping the heavy cloak off of him. Yuri let it fall around him, like a blanket. Then he pulled Otabek onto him.

Otabek kissed Yuri’s neck; he felt Yuri’s erection press into his abdomen, and the thin, slick line it traced on his skin. “I might need you to help me,” Otabek said, “given that I’m no conjurer in this place.”

“I know,” Yuri said languidly. He kissed Otabek’s cheek, then his chin, and when Otabek turned his head, he noticed what looked like a crystal bowl filled with a silver liquid on the ground, next to his crown of feathers and Yuri’s silver garland. 

Otabek kissed Yuri’s mouth again, and let Yuri claw at his back. In the dream space, things were so tidy and simple. It wasn’t difficult for Yuri to make his tight, hard body open and supple, and Otabek, charmed by Yuri’s magic, felt no worry that his own body might fail him. Otabek knew things would be far more awkward and messy in waking life, but he hoped that if he played his cards right, he’d have the honor of the sweat and grime of reality soon enough. 

“Are you going to let me make things up to you, from last night?” Otabek dipped his hand in the silver fluid and spread it in a thin layer between Yuri’s legs, earning him a happy sigh.

“Yes,” Yuri said. “Just because I didn’t want you to look like an animal doesn't mean I don’t want you to act like one.”

“Oh really?” Otabek licked Yuri’s collarbone. “Then turn over.”

“Make me,” Yuri said.

Otabek bit his lip and rolled Yuri onto his side. Then he froze for a moment, struck by the marvel of Yuri’s back, the way the liquid blue light of his wings coursed through its intricate, swirling channels. He drew a line of the silver liquid down Yuri’s spine with his finger, and felt him wince with happiness at the touch. He kissed the back of Yuri’s neck, between his shoulder blades, and on the small of his back. He teased Yuri with his slick fingers, and Yuri arched his back in anticipation. 

“So impatient,” Otabek said, giving himself a thick coating of silver and a few hard strokes with his hand, more out of amusement than necessity. Yuri scoffed and shook his head, then grit his teeth as Otabek entered him. Yuri sank down onto his forearms, and Otabek grabbed his wrists. He let his teeth graze Yuri’s neck. “If there’s something you want me to do, I need you to tell me, ok?” He whispered in Yuri’s ear.

“Yes, I know that,” Yuri gasped as much as said. Otabek pressed him hard into the fur cloak on the snow beneath them, and Yuri pushed against him, taking him deeper. Yuri was a worthy adversary, Otabek thought; unwilling to hide his hunger for Otabek’s body. 

“Now don’t say anything, and don’t hold back,” Yuri ordered.

Otabek let the ancient, animalistic side of his astral body take over. His remaining thoughts were only to gauge how much pressure Yuri could take with each movement, more than Otabek had expected, and to temper it to Yuri’s satisfaction. Their heavy breathing echoed through the cavernous space. Finally, Otabek felt Yuri jerk and heave, gasping as he came, and Otabek let himself go.

The two of them lay in a panting heap on the chapel floor. Otabek turned onto his side and clutched Yuri to him. He buried his face in Yuri’s hair and rested his nose on the back of Yuri’s neck. Yuri grabbed Otabek’s arm that was draped over his chest, and pulled it around him tighter with a satisfied sigh. Otabek let the feeling of bliss bloom through his spine and radiate through his body; he felt the rising and falling of Yuri’s ribcage in his arms.

Otabek noticed the sky over the lake getting brighter, and he prayed it was only Yuri’s sun rising and not the actual dawn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got the rest of this story outlined, but I'm curious if there's anything you guys would like to see more of (characters, themes, etc). Just wondering how much detail to go into on some of these things. Thanks for reading this far!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek confesses some of his deeply held beliefs. In the waking world, Yuri is more visible than ever, and Otabek has to be careful not to give his presence away.

Yuri didn’t sleep; if he’d wanted to be projected into a different space, he would have had to ask the Tree or create a portal. He didn’t want to be anywhere else. The three suns that illuminated his astral forest were dawning, and through half-open eyes, he watched the dance of the light through the crystal ceiling he’d made. He lay still in Otabek’s arms.

Much of Yuri’s life was about complexity: the perfect complexity of snow, and willing the creation forward. But there was a paradox that Lilia pointed him to. Simplicity and complexity go hand in hand. Sometimes the simplest things are the most profound. And all together, Yuri’s beloved snowflakes formed a monochrome blanket that turned the landscape into two bold streaks of Earth and Sky. Simplicity from complexity. Lilia told him that from the absolute simplicity of the creator came the infinite complexity of the creation.

There was nothing complex about lying in the light with Otabek, was there? It was completely simple...and yet Yuri felt a cloud of confused thoughts and emotions still swirling inside him. He felt like Lilia’s frozen lake: on the outside, a perfect peace. Stillness. On the inside, something brewing, chaotic, waiting. 

“Yuri...it isn’t dawn yet, is it?” Otabek whispered.

“Not on Earth, no,” Yuri said. “Just watch the horizon, you’ll see.”

Otabek nuzzled the back of Yuri’s neck and watched the sky. He let his hands drift down Yuri’s chest. When the second sun had risen, he grinned. “Now I see what you mean. Won’t you explain to me what this place is?” 

Yuri shifted onto his back back and faced Otabek. “I made it, a long time ago.”

“You made it?”

“Lilia helped me,” Yuri said. He gazed up at the ceiling. “It used to belong only to me, and it was purely inside my own mind. But I’ve visited it so many times that now it’s become a real astral lake. The Tree only lets in people who I trust. But it will remain after I die, and then maybe some other dreamer will discover it.”

“It’s incredible,” Otabek said.

“I think so, too,” Yuri said with a wide smile. He rested his cheek against Otabek’s chest. “But it’s still just a dream. There are more beautiful lakes elsewhere in the cosmos.”

Otabek blinked a few times and pulled Yuri closer. “I don’t understand what you mean,” he said. “This place seems absolutely perfect to me.”

“I'm glad you like it," Yuri said. "But there are many other worlds than this, higher up. Divine worlds. Every lake on Earth and every lake in a human dream wishes it could be as beautiful as those."

Otabek ran his thumb along Yuri's cheekbone. "If you say so."

"You might have even visited some, though you don't remember it." Yuri sighed and turned to look out over the balcony again. "It's where Fedya comes from. One of those upper worlds. Up there, all animals can talk. Down here, very few can. He doesn't remember where he comes from, though. Most of the talking animals don't. I'm sure if I told him, he probably wouldn't understand. But maybe as he starts dreamwalking more, it will start to make sense to him."

Yuri was quiet for a moment. He felt the gentle current of Otabek's breath on his skin. 

"I wish he could hear me," Yuri whispered. A tear was building up in the corner of his eye.

"You'll get there," Otabek said. "I still don't know exactly how, but I know it will happen."

"Things are already changing," Yuri said. 

Otabek kissed Yuri's temple. "When I saw your drawing in the dust I was afraid I was going to faint. In fact I think it was just the mercy of the Tree that kept me in my body."

"You called on the Tree then?" 

"Yes, I didn't know what else to do, it was just an instinct, I guess."

Yuri couldn't quite explain why that made him so happy. Then he felt his heart sink. "I saw two men go into your office," he said. 

"What? When?" 

"It was just before you got back from eating with Leo," Yuri said. He scowled. "They were both supremely ugly, and--" 

Otabek laughed. "I know who you're talking about."

"Well, they were poking around where they don't belong, and--" 

"I wonder if they'll do it again." Otabek sounded more curious than irritated. "Perhaps I'll give them a little scare next time," he said. Then he sighed deeply. "Nothing seems to scare me in these places." He looked around at the inside of the chapel, then rolled onto his back. Yuri lay on his side next to him. Otabek shut his eyes. “In my normal life, every time I speak, it’s like a move in a chess game,” he said. “Everything is so calculated and strict. There are so few people who I can speak with freely. Leo. The Countess. Christophe, most of the time. Otherwise I feel as though I’ve been handed a script, and some great, unknown catastrophe would befall me if I discarded it. Here...I can say anything.”

Yuri propped himself up on his elbow. “Is there something you wish you could say? Here, or in normal life?”

“God, I don’t even know where I would begin,” Otabek said. He blinked a few times and gazed at the ceiling. “I could spend an entire day going off about those two clowns who snuck into my office alone. If I gathered up a pile of horse shit from the Countess’s stable and stuffed it into a suit I sewed myself with my eyes closed, I’d still end up with a far more noble man than Petukhov.”

Yuri smiled. He liked this candid side of Otabek. 

“Everywhere I go, it seems to me as though everyone is a dog with a muzzle. We see these painfully obvious things, and yet we all say nothing. There are children starving in the streets of the Tsar’s city and people walk past them as if they aren’t even there. A few weeks ago I had the misfortune of being invited to a wedding. Admiral Glebov’s third wedding, mind you. And it was so clear he had just plucked some poor child from the neighboring village; the girl was barely sixteen and could hardly read...” Otabek shook his head. “You know, one fortunate thing about me, Yuri, is that in my normal life, I have a very still face.” Otabek touched his cheek, contemplating it. “Christophe and the General sometimes tell me I look cold, grim, and expressionless, but I think it’s secretly a grace. This way I don’t betray how completely absurd I find most people and most social conventions.”

Yuri ran his finger from Otabek’s chin down the length of his chest. “If it makes you feel any better, I find most of human life to be a neurotic dance to the grave,” he said. “I don’t like or understand most of what I see, and I find myself wishing you were a salamander or a sylph or something, and you could just run away from it all and live in the woods with me.”

Otabek laughed, and Yuri felt a little tug of pain inside at how much he loved Otabek’s smile. “Oh, Yuri. If I wouldn’t freeze to death, how I would consider joining you.” He reached for Yuri and pulled him on top of him. “Or if I didn’t have such a restless mind. I crave solitude so much of the time, and yet other times silence is dreadfully hard for me. If I don’t have a book, a pen, or an instrument, I get so agitated.” He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Yuri’s hair. “Have you ever seen the fantastic cuckoo clock in the square in Vaselkovo village?” he asked.

“No, I’m not sure what you mean.” Yuri let Otabek wind his hands through his hair, and trace the pattern on his back.

“It’s one of the most beautiful examples of this type of clock in the entire region,” Otabek said. “On the hour, a whole succession of carved figures dance their way out into the open. They’re fixed to a board that revolves, and each one has a track that it moves along.” Otabek grinned at the memory; Yuri sensed he knew exactly how the technical trickery of it was managed. But his smile faded. “Each figure is a little caricature of someone you might find in the town. The baker, the priest, farmers, and so on. And lately I feel as though every person I meet is no different from those little figures. They all exist on a pre-ordained path, cut out for them. They will never deviate from it. There is no spontaneity and no progress.” 

Otabek’s voice lightened into a soft, remorseful whisper. “The only people I’ve ever truly called my friends, the only people I’ve ever really counted on...well, they’ve all gone ‘off the track’ in some way,” he said. Yuri let himself sink into Otabek, and absorbed his story. “My mentor, a man called Rivken, was hounded by his family for years to remarry after his wife died, but he never did. He was a total eccentric, but he produced all sorts of fantastic inventions. Toys, clocks, weapons… The woman who raised my sister and me was a nun...she never broke her vows, but she was as obstinate as a goat to get the abbess in her monastery to allow her to take my sister and me in. Then you have people like the Countess, who creates her own little world around her. Christophe and Leo are foreigners, and very much not family men…”

Yuri’s eyelashes grazed Otabek’s skin. Outside, a flock of silver and white cranes flew by, a species unknown to Earth. Messengers from another dream world, simply passing through. “Otabek...is there anything wrong with having an unpredictable life?” Yuri asked. And he himself didn’t know the answer. 

Otabek was quiet for a moment. 

“My grandfather says that human beings have a tragic destiny,” Yuri said. “They live in the bodies of animals, but they have minds like tiny, sleeping gods. They end up being something that’s neither animal nor divine, and they spend their lives reconciling their two natures.”

“What an elegant way to describe our doomed existence,” Otabek said.

“He said that if humans would learn to trust nature, love it, and understand it, it would help them at every turn to realize their potential.” Yuri pictured his grandfather and the way he stroked his beard and looked off into the distance when he talked about anything philosophical or abstract. So different from his lessons about roots and mushrooms. “But even if they manage not to scrape by for survival like animals do,” Yuri said, “their real problem is that they don’t love each other. Until they learn to get along, their suffering will never end. They’ll never know what they’re truly capable of.”

“Do you agree with him, Yuri? Do you think what he says is true?”

“I’m not sure.” All Yuri was completely sure of at that moment was that he liked the feeling of Otabek’s hands on his skin. He turned his head to the side and watched the beams of blue light dance along the floor. “In nature everything has a very specific role to play. The course is set for every species. And yet it’s always evolving and changing,” Yuri said. “Each generation becomes better and better at adapting. So I don’t think it’s strange for each generation of humans to seek out better ways to live.”

He felt Otabek exhale deeply beneath him. 

“I don’t know why, but hearing you say that makes me feel much better about my life,” Otabek said. “For a long time now, I’ve felt that there is no real path for me. No established one, anyways. I don’t want to have a family in the traditional sense, and it makes me feel like there’s something wrong with me, something ill and degenerate.”

Yuri frowned at Otabek’s words. “You know, the crows near my lake are always figuring out new ways to find food. They often take twigs and reeds and use them to pull grubs and insects from places they can’t reach with their beaks and feet. If they only ever did things the way their parents and grandparents did, more of them would go hungry.” He rested his chin in the center of Otabek’s chest. “I’m sorry, that must sound like an awfully strange comparison. God knows, you aren’t a crow. But what I mean to say is this: it must be terrible to be a human and have all sorts of interests and desires and inclinations, and at every turn have someone telling you ‘no’ because they believe it isn’t on your path.” He sighed and slipped his arms underneath Otabek’s torso. 

“I suppose I have no choice but to find my own way in life,” Otabek said. 

“Otabek...what do you want the most in life?” Yuri asked.

Otabek was quiet for a long time. “I’m not sure how to answer that, Yuri,” he said. “I’ll have to keep thinking about it. If you ask me again some other time, perhaps then, I’ll have an answer for you.”

Yuri gave a subtle nod. He tilted his body forward to kiss Otabek. For a few moments, Yuri had a sense that their two bodies were one, and they were inside a kind of chrysalis, like some sort of cosmic caterpillar. When Yuri gently drew back, Otabek turned to the side and blinked for a second, curious. 

“Yuri…that pillar on the balcony. Was it there before? Or am I just crazy?”

Yuri looked and saw that a new obelisk had emerged a few meters away from them. Only one of its six faces was covered in runes.

“No, that one is new.” Yuri propped himself up on his forearms. He stood up and walked over to look at it. Otabek followed and wrapped his arms around Yuri’s from behind. “These pillars hold all of my memories,” Yuri said. “Look. See how this one is different from the others?” The ice had deep striations of gray and blue in it, like a rare marble. “This one is just for my memories of you.”

“Is that what those glyphs mean?” Otabek asked. He kissed Yuri’s ear.

“It is,” Yuri said. He looked out across the lake. “All along the path we took, there are columns that hold my memories from this lifetime. But farther from here, there are others that I haven’t seen yet. Massive columns...they have memories from previous lives, and I haven’t yet tried to decode them.”

Otabek rested his chin on Yuri’s shoulder and contemplated the gleaming obelisk. “Do you think I could learn to make them?” he asked. “And preserve my own memories?”

“I don’t know,” Yuri said. “It seems possible. The pillars that form here are almost like trees, you know. They just sprout up on their own accord, as I experience things. But maybe in your own conjuration space, you could find a way to pack your memories like this. In fact, I’m sure you could.” Yuri twisted his foot awkwardly against the floor. “God, this is why I wish other elementals could hear me!” Yuri huffed. “It’s not common for humans to take an interest in dreamwalking, or remembering their past lives. But for someone who has no ill will, and only wants to understand himself better...well, I can’t think of any reason why elementals shouldn’t help him!”

By now the third sun had fully risen, and the trees around the lake glittered in the light. 

“I’d be honored if the others wanted to help me,” Otabek said. 

“They will,” Yuri said emphatically. “Any being with a pure heart will always find nature on their side. It can’t be otherwise.” 

One of the silver cranes lighted on the edge of the balcony. Yuri knew she came from an enlightened world. She could speak if she needed to, but she had no need to. The bird took a deep bow, then stretched out her huge, shining wings. A series of feathers fell on the ground, and the bird flew away, silently. The feathers fell into a unique, calligraphic shape. 

Yuri stood over them. “This is one of Lilia’s sigils,” he said.

“What does it mean?” Otabek looked at the ground, confused.

“She knows where I am,” Yuri said. He wrapped his arms around Otabek and melted with relief. “So, maybe I’m not as lost as I think.” Otabed nodded. “Beka,” Yuri said, seeing Otabek’s body start to turn more transparent, “think of everything you saw here tonight. Try to imagine...if you were to conjure a pillar of your own, what you would want to be encapsulated in it.”

Otabek reached for the back of Yuri’s neck. “That’s easy enough,” he said. “Let me finish it with this.” He kissed Yuri one more time before his body vanished into the intermediary space of the Tree.

🝰

Otabek blinked slowly in the soft light. He felt as if something, or someone, had been lying on his chest. But his room, naturally, was empty. Images flashed through his mind. A bizarre little boy with curly hair. A space of incredible brightness, but terrible pain. A child sitting alone, with stars for eyes. Yuri lying in a snowbank, giving him a lecherous stare. Yuri's arched, glowing back. Columns of ice, silver cranes… 

Otabek looked down at his body and half-expected to have hooves. He sat up and cracked his human toes against the floor. 

As he finished shaving, he swirled the stiff brush around in a basin of hot water. He looked up. In the thin layer of condensation on the mirror, a detailed drawing of a snowflake was emerging, as though being scratched by someone’s fingernail.

Otabek laughed out loud. “Yuri, it’s a good thing you waited until I put my razor down to do that,” he said. "Otherwise I might have gone to work with a gash across my face from the shock."

The drawing stopped. Otabek pressed his palm against the mirror, and Yuri traced the outline of his hand. It was an enchanting feeling, to not be alone. 

As he walked to his office, he nearly collided with a street lamp because of an unexpected sound. 

"Beka!" A tiny, distant-sounding voice whispered in his ear. Otabek couldn't reply without looking a bit crazy. He kept walking. 

"No, Beka, go to the market stall!" Yuri's voice was just barely audible. Otabek obliged, although he was confused. "Buy one basket of berries, and one of mushrooms!" 

Otabek tried as hard as he could not to laugh or smile at the little voice bossing him around. He approached the stall and noticed a little girl with huge brown eyes staring at his shoulder. She was wrapped up in a huge fluffy shawl that was much too big. 

"Mashka! Don't stare! That's not polite!" The older woman running the stall pulled the girl away, but she kept gaping at Otabek. "I'm sorry," the woman said to him. 

"Please, don't worry about it," Otabek said. He handed her a few copper coins. 

"Baba, look!" the girl pointed at Otabek's hand. He turned his palm up and could just barely see what looked like a faint blue light. "Look, in his hand!" 

"Mashka, quit talking nonsense and leave our customer alone!" 

"No, Baba, look, it's like in the garden!" 

The woman looked mortified, she clearly saw nothing in Otabek's palm, but Otabek assured her the girl's outburst was no problem. The light traveled up Otabek's arm and rested on his shoulder. Otabek smiled and waved at the still-staring girl as he walked off with his wares in a stiff paper sack. 

When he was farther from the crowd, he allowed himself to speak to Yuri. "You had an admirer back there, am I going to have to fight girls off of you everywhere I go?" he said with a grin. 

"Hmph," is all the voice said in response. 

"And are you going to tell me why you had me buy these?" Otabek lifted up the bag. He turned the corner and saw the guard by the iron gate, and conjured just the right amount of mutual sternness to be admitted. But it was more difficult than usual. Otabek's day was already feeling surreal and dream-like. 

♞

"And what do we have here?" Christophe appeared in the door frame, as usual. He spotted the small basket of fruit on Otabek's desk and the doll on the window sill and walked in. "Forest fruits?" 

"Try one, they're bewitchingly good," Otabek said. Christophe plucked a dark red berry from the bunch and popped it into his mouth. "You look exceedingly tired." Otabek noticed the darkness under Christophe's eyes. 

"I am once again languishing under Karpišek's watchful eye," Christophe said, dramatically miming wiping his brow. "But what is art without suffering?" He shrugged and smiled, then his face fell. "My real problem is that Nikiforov has commissioned a series of dinner jackets for himself and Katsuki. I told him it couldn't have come at a worse time, but he insists."

"He's insatiable," Otabek said. 

"Truly. He wants to show off Katsuki in something more contemporary. He wanted me to pass on an invitation to you, by the way. Saturday, at his apartment. A small gathering of polite company for dinner in the evening, and then a smaller gathering of impolite company later on, if you're feeling inclined."

"I see." Otabek felt torn. He felt more confident after his dream encounters with Yuri, and yet participating in the General's games also felt more to him like infidelity in a way that it never had before. "I'll join you for the first bit. I'll have to make up my mind about the second," he said with a sigh. 

"He said he thought you might be hesitant. But don't worry, frankly, yours is an open invitation," Christophe said with a cat-like smile. He took another berry. "My god, these are good. I didn't think they grew this time of year. What possessed you to visit the market?" 

Otabek was thoughtful for a moment. "The same spirit that possesses Anya to see ghosts in the Countess's dolls."

Christophe laughed out loud. "Don't tell her that."

"Why not? I thought it amused you to see her wring her hands and flit about like a wild hare."

The two men grinned at each other. "You are a scoundrel," Christophe said. "In any case, I have a great deal of festooning to do before the day is out. I'd best get going. Join me for dinner if you like."

"I'll meet you at seven?" 

"Perfect." Christophe took his leave and Otabek went back to refining a sketch and eating fruit. 

Then he noticed tiny marks appearing at the top of the page. Minuscule footprints in ink, barely a millimeter or two across, began to dot the upper border of the drawing. Yuri had dipped his feet in the open inkwell and was doing a little waltz across the paper. 

Otabek laughed to himself. “Now what fanciful mood will I have to say I was in to draw such a thing?” he asked, pretending to scold Yuri. The footprints stopped. “No, you don’t have to stop,” Otabek said. “Just help me come up with an excuse.” The twirling border started again. 

Otabek looked at the clock hanging on the wall next to the large window in front of him. It was nearly time for a break. He expected Leo would arrive any moment, seeking lunch and gossip. Otabek took a small sheet of paper from a drawer and a sharp pencil, and wrote a short note.

_ Gorky, Petukhov-- _

_ If you’re looking for something, you can always ask.  _

Otabek decided he shouldn’t act overly happy. He had no reasonable or believable explanation for it. And while he secretly hoped his idiot colleagues would trespass again and find his seemingly omniscient note, he hadn’t fully thought through what it would mean for the two of them to suspect that Otabek possessed some kind of inexplicable second sight.

🀩

Yuri dozed on Otabek’s shoulder. He couldn’t wait to get out of the ominous, cave-like hallway and get to the winter garden where he could properly see the sky. He shut his eyes and daydreamed about having his physical form back, and where he would take Otabek. What part of the woods would Otabek like the most? And where would be the best place for another tryst? He grinned at the thought, until he realized the air around him had become stiflingly warm. 

“Are you all right?” a faint, unfamiliar voice asked. Yuri’s eyes snapped open. Leo’s salamander was sitting cross-legged in front of him, looking at him curiously. 

“You look terrible,” the little flame said. “Like a ghost.” He turned his head. “Are you real?”

For a moment Yuri was too stunned by the other elemental to speak. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri gains a new ally in his fight against Kerebos's curse, and a whole new branch of magic opens up to him. Suspicions about Otabek are brewing in the capital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates might be slow for the next few weeks since I'm trying to finish up the manuscript for my first original novel by the end of this month. But I'm sure I'll still be working on this while I procrastinate working on that...

"You can see me?" Yuri asked, still awestruck. 

"Well, just barely," the salamander said. He had a shy, unassuming voice and a beautiful, young looking face. But it was difficult to tell the ages of elementals, and Yuri had never before met one who he found so visually striking. "I couldn't be sure at first." He peered at Yuri, looking through the translucent form. "Are you an ice fairy? And what's that little thread coming from the center of your chest?" He tilted his head, blinking his large, shining eyes innocuously. 

"Yes, I'm an ice fairy, and the thread just means my physical body is elsewhere. Haven't you ever seen someone who was dreaming?" Yuri sensed a need to tread carefully, and it bothered him. He was used to being able to say exactly what he thought with no reservations. He thought about Otabek, who was quick to think and listen, slow to speak or judge. How would Otabek talk to him?

"Sure I have," the salamander said. "Are you asleep?" 

Yuri was starting to get irritated. "No, I'm under a curse! My body has been taken away and I'm trying to get it back!" 

The salamander looked afraid. Then Yuri looked afraid. _ Oh please don't tell me I've scared him off already _ , Yuri thought.  _ If he doesn't even know what the silver thread is, he might know absolutely nothing about curses…  _

"That's horrible," the salamander said. "Wait a second. Do you belong to Otabek?" 

‘Belong’ seemed like an awfully strong word.  _ Maybe 'belong with' rather than 'belong to',  _ Yuri thought _. _ "Well, sort of," Yuri said. "In any case I've never seen a salamander follow a human around the way you do. Who are you, anyways?" 

"Oh. My name is Guang Hong." He took a deep bow, not unlike the way the historian had introduced himself at the Countess' party. "It's a pleasure to meet you. And what is your name?" 

"I'm called Yuri." He was relieved he hadn't managed to push the other fairy away yet, and that he could be heard at all. "I've never met an elemental with raiment like yours," he said. Guang Hong's long, flame-like robe glittered and fluttered. It crossed over the front of his body and closed with elaborate knotted tassels. "I've only ever seen a garment like that in drawings. Where do you come from?" 

Guang Hong laughed nervously. "It's kind of a long story." 

"That's all right with me," Yuri said. 

Otabek and Leo walked up the wide marble staircase to the upper floor. Yuri and Guang Hong sat on the edge of a bread plate while the two men had their lunch. Otabek showed no sign of having heard the conversation that started on his shoulder. 

"I come from a long line of hearth salamanders," Guang Hong said, "but from another empire, very far from here."

Yuri found that strange. Hearth salamanders were known for being devoted, but they tended to stay in one place. 

"We served a family of warlords, but their home was destroyed during a huge battle, and the entire family was wiped out. After that I had nowhere to go." He looked solemn for a moment. 

Yuri tried to imagine what he would do if his lake were destroyed somehow, if some earthquake caused it to be swallowed up into the ground, or if a wildfire ravaged the woods. He thought he might lose his will to live. Yuri was suddenly even more interested in his new companion. “Your home was destroyed? What did you do after that?”

Guang Hong looked at his hands. “Well, I did everything I could to keep it from burning. But salamanders are a lot better at tending to fires than putting them out.” He turned back to Yuri. “I wandered around for a little while after that. It was really lonely. But I took up an interest in gunpowder.” He looked up at Leo. “The fire in gunpowder is really chaotic,” Guang Hong said. “I wanted to understand it better.” He sighed deeply. “So I found my way into a workshop where fireworks are made.”

“I saw your Red Lotus!” Yuri said. “I didn’t know you could make mandalas out of fire until then.”

Guang Hong lit up. “Wait, you were there? I thought I sensed something nearby...but yes, I lived with a man who made fireworks for a few months. But staying in the valley my old family had lived in was making me miserable.” He sank back down again. “So one day I snuck into a box that was being shipped far away. It took a few weeks, but eventually I ended up in this kingdom.”

_A brave move_ , Yuri thought. 

“Hang on, if you come from another country, how do you know Russian?” Yuri was deeply confused.

“Oh! Leo was learning it when he arrived, so I just studied it with him!” Guang Hong said with a wide smile. It gave Yuri a flicker of hope that he might one day be able to learn the obnoxious French language and discern more of what Otabek said to his colleagues. 

“Do you talk to Leo?” Yuri asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, does he know about you? You go with him most places, don’t you?” Yuri asked. The sun was warm through the glass of the winter garden, and Yuri could feel it shine through him.

“Sure I do,” Guang Hong said. “But why would he know about me? Most humans don’t know about elementals, do they?”

“I guess not, but some of them do,” Yuri said. “The right ones do. Have you ever tried talking to Leo?”

Guang Hong shook his head. He pressed his thumb and middle finger together. “If I click my fingers, I can appear human if I have to. But I’ve so rarely had to...it just doesn’t occur to me, I guess.”

Yuri squinted. “You do all these things for Leo and you’ve never even tried communicating with him? But you care about him, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” Guang Hong blushed. “But no, I’ve never needed to speak to him. I just help him with whatever I can. I can’t imagine how talking to him would help. I think most people would be quite disturbed to talk to a fairy.” He wrapped his arms around his knees.

“Guang Hong, do you really think Leo is like most people?” Yuri asked. “Look, I don’t know him very well, but it seems like it might make him extremely happy to know another being was looking out for him and so interested in everything he was doing.”

“What makes you say that?” Guang Hong had a sensitive, tentative nature that Yuri wasn’t used to. 

“Well, he’s a friend of Otabek’s, and I talk to Otabek all the time,” Yuri said. 

“You do?” This time it was Guang Hong’s turn to be confused. “But how? You said your physical body was gone.”

“In dreams,” Yuri said.

“I don’t understand,” Guang Hong said.

“The elementals I grew up with are masters of dreamwalking,” Yuri said.

“But I thought that was a human witches’ art.”

“Well, sort of, but it’s just magic,” Yuri said. “Don’t you dream?”

They dodged Otabek’s hand as he lay a slice of black bread on the plate, and sat back down on the edge of a glass butter dish. 

“Well, yes,” Guang Hong said, looking uneasy. “But...almost all of my dreams are about a temple on the sun." He looked mystified as he spoke. "A lot of times I can barely remember them when I wake up."

"It was the same for me before I learned to dreamwalk," Yuri said. "But now I can work magic in dreams if I have to. Well, some of the time," Yuri caught himself. "It depends on the dream, and obviously it's not enough to get me out of this curse."

Yuri tried to explain to Guang Hong how he'd ended up in Otabek's company without scandalizing him. Guang Hong had a dreamy, starry-eyed look whenever he mentioned Leo, but if after four years in Leo's company he hadn't even thought of making himself known, much less do everything in his power to do so, Yuri figured his love for Leo was of a different order. It made Yuri feel strange in comparison. He sensed that Guang Hong had no intention to make him feel ashamed of his lust for Otabek, and that the thought would probably have never crossed his mind. But Yuri felt a wave of anxiety about all the reasons he wanted his physical body back so badly. 

"Well, I guess if I knew it wouldn't scare him or upset him…I wouldn't mind if Leo knew about me," Guang Hong said. 

"If you spoke to him in a dream, you could see how he feels about it," Yuri said. "I can teach you, if you want me to."

"Oh. I'd like that," Guang Hong said. Then he looked worried. "But I don't know what I could do for you in return. I don't know anything about curses."

"But you know fire magic! And if you could teach me some of that, it would help me help Otabek, wouldn't it?" 

Guang Hong followed Yuri back down to Otabek's office and tried to explain the beginnings of fire magic to him. "It's all about controlling chaos," he said, "and speeding up matter until it loses structure. But you can't let it get out of control! Then it starts to destroy things." They walked around the edge of Otabek's desk as he worked. "I suppose if you work with ice, you must do the opposite, right?" 

"Yes, ice magic is about adding structure to things. Giving them more form," Yuri said. "I've never tried to speed things up before." 

Guang Hong looked pensive. "You know…they say that everything that exists contains some of its opposite." He pressed his fingertips together. "So it could be that you already have the foundation of fire magic if you work with ice. If it operates on the principle of speed and control…well, I could be wrong, and I don't want to speak too soon, but…"

"I see what you mean," Yuri said. He looked at his translucent hands. "I want to try it, but I might have to wait." His heart sank. "There's still so little I can do in this form. But I can teach you to dreamwalk! And then, maybe, you could continue to teach me in the dreaming?" He was afraid of asking too much. 

"I'd be happy to," Guang Hong said with a huge smile. "I love everything about fire." His wistful expression returned. "It's quite exciting, actually, thinking of how to explain it." They took another lap around the desk. "I thought of something else. Do you know any water magic? I mean, ice magic is a branch of water magic, isn't it?" 

"In a way, it is," Yuri said. "I know a little water magic. My grandfather is a master at working with plants, and you need water magic for that."

"Well, I was just thinking…the human body is mostly water. And so are the plants and animals they eat. Maybe you can use water magic to help Otabek in that way? And maybe you can teach me how to do it, too?" 

Yuri clenched his fists. "If only I could talk to my grandfather!" then he sighed heavily. "Since this curse was put on me, you're the first elemental who's been able to hear me." They walked through a little pile of pencil shavings, but Otabek didn't yet notice there were now two sets of tiny footprints in the dust from the lead. "I know a few spells to help plants grow, and sometimes I do spells to help animals who are sick. But I've never tried them on humans. I can't think of any reason why I couldn't try."

Yuri felt pressure in his chest. The pain in his heart was coming back, but not as strongly as before. 

"I'll teach you everything I can," Guang Hong said, "if you'll teach me dream and water magic I can use to help Leo."

"It's a deal," Yuri said. He felt strange again. He wasn't used to having friends besides Fedya. 

Then he realized Otabek was looking down at them, squinting. "Yuri, is that you? No, wait a second, there are two of you…"

"He can see us?!" Guang Hong's eyes widened. 

Otabek stretched out his palm and Yuri walked into it. 

"It's ok. Come on," Yuri said. Guang Hong followed him, hesitant. 

Otabek lifted the two tiny figures up closer to his face and studied them for a moment. 

"Yuri, once you're back to normal, you'll look a little more opaque, like your friend here, yes?" Otabek spoke quietly and smiled, but Guang Hong still quivered at being addressed by a human. "Yuri tells me you're taking care of my friend Leo," he half-whispered. Guang Hong looked up at him, blinking. "Good friends are hard to come by here," Otabek said with a touch of sadness to his voice. "So whatever you're doing, keep going. Leo's someone I'd very much like to keep around for a long time. And he doesn't have it any easier here than I do."

Guang Hong levitated up into the air, aglow at Otabek's words. 

🀄

In the courtyard below Otabek's window, Gorky walked with Admiral Glebov when he noticed an unexpected light from the corner of his eye. He glanced up and saw what looked like Otabek holding a flame in the palm of his hand. 

"What is it?" the admiral asked. 

"Nothing," Gorky said, flustered. Then, he got an idea. "Just thought I saw something strange in Altin's office. Wouldn't be the first time."

Glebov looked up at the window. A young man in a flaming red cloak stood across from Otabek. "Who is that?" Glebov asked. 

"What do you mean?" 

"In the strange red get-up."

Gorky looked up. The two men looked at each other, confused. When they turned back to the window, the young man was gone, and Otabek stood in his usual place, sharpening a pencil with his pocket knife. 

🔷

While Otabek dined with Christophe, Yuri tried to figure out as much as he could about manipulating the water in food and in human bodies. Neither Yuri nor Guang Hong fully understood at that time how much the suggestion of taking up water magic would change the course of Yuri's life. 

Yuri was a master of turning water into snow, making it into what he saw as the most perfect form matter could hope to attain. But what else would it do? 

Yuri stood on the edge of Otabek's salad plate and looked at the green leaves. Plants were almost as good as snowflakes, he supposed. They were mostly water, and they had a precise, symmetrical geometry to them. Yuri could feel the life force in the leaves and in the oil, and he could sense the presence of the water in the leaves. But no matter how hard he concentrated or what incantations he said, it didn't seem to have an effect. 

He looked up at Otabek. He seemed more at ease, more cheerful and relaxed than before, and Yuri wanted to believe it was because of his presence and his influence. 

_ This is where you and I are different yet again, Guang Hong, _ Yuri thought.  _ We both have humans we want to take care of, but you can be content to work unseen. I want Otabek to be happy…but I want it to be because of me. And I want him to know it.  _

Yuri felt like a selfish squirrel, hoarding nuts and berries. Back at his lake, he’d known such profound stillness. There was a directness and simplicity to his thinking; his thoughts felt like freshly fallen snow. Among humans, it was more like an endless blizzard. 

_ I guess I never knew how painful it is to want things _ , he thought.  _ I never really wanted for anything before, except for the villagers to leave us in peace.  _

He peered into Otabek’s soup bowl, confused. The water in the soup was completely different from the salad. The cooked food had the element of fire added to it, which meant a greater level of chaos. Yuri was stumped as to what to do with it.

He retreated to the salad.  _ Well, even if I could do any magic without my physical body, what would I do? _ Yuri remembered an old woman in Berezhovoye who sold potions and tinctures out of a tiny hut at the edge of town.  _ What did she call them? Love potions? ‘Aphrodisiacs?’ _ They were supposed to make you irresistible to the person you desired. Yuri contemplated the water in the green leaves. He imagined the mandala he would have made out of ice if he’d wanted to set such an intention into a snowflake. Yuri sat in deep concentration, meditating until it was time to ride home in Otabek’s shirt pocket. 

🔶

Otabek wasn’t sure what had gotten into him. He’d felt an uncomfortable surge of blood to his groin as he walked home. He hadn’t had such a wild influx of erotic thoughts since he was a younger man, since the first days he was inclined to touch himself in secret. Visions of Yuri and the General’s bathhouse flooded his mind. 

He lay his satchel on the desk without unpacking it and walked into his room. He immediately took off his clothes and took a handkerchief from a drawer. He noticed the tiny blue light hovering over the end of the bed and sighed.

“I’m afraid I’m much more impressive in dreams than in waking life,” Otabek said, looking down at his body. He heard a barely audible click, and the light began to expand. The apparition was easier to see the less Otabek focused his eyes, he realized. It was as though the air were the tiniest bit warped, like the effect of heat over a paved road on a hot day. 

Otabek thought of the salamander he’d met that afternoon. The little red flame had clicked his fingers, and then, standing in Otabek’s office was a shy but beautiful young man who had looked ageless and illuminated, like an angel. If Leo was haunted by such a spectacular being, then what, Otabek wondered, must Yuri’s physical body look like?

“Yuri...would you do something for me?” Otabek asked. He got up and walked awkwardly to his desk, still painfully erect. “I really want to see you…” He picked up a small piece of chalk and crushed it into a fine, powdery dust, then sprinkled it into the air. The particles landed on the surface of the faint, shimmering light that delineated Yuri’s astral body. A face emerged, hovering in the air in front of him. Otabek held up his hand, and felt something press lightly against it. With his other hand, he released more of the chalk dust, revealing the contour of Yuri’s chest and arm.

“There you are,” Otabek whispered. “Will you come with me?” 

♞

Yuri asked the Tree to send him to wherever Otabek was. He found himself in a dense forest of red trees. But it wasn’t autumn there, Yuri realized. Everything that grew, grew brilliant red. Trees, flowers, grasses. The sky glowed pink and gold. 

Yuri looked at his body. He wore a white leopard skin around his waist and thin gold sandals. Heavy gold jewelry etched with unusual patterns covered his neck and arms. Yuri grinned at his fanciful adornment. He wondered if any culture on Earth dressed this way, or if this were simply native to the dream. 

At the edge of the woods was a wall of red marble carved with intricate patterns and figures of animals. A door flanked with columns led inside. Yuri walked toward it.

He hadn’t expected his wishful thinking at the dinner table to have any effect. He’d felt oddly proud of himself that Otabek had been so overcome with desire. Yuri thought of how beautiful he’d looked, lying in the low light of his bedroom, and eagerly awaited what was on the other side of the elaborate red wall. But Otabek seemed flustered, frustrated and ashamed, and it nagged at Yuri. He’d watched Otabek’s body melt into sleep, but there was something agitated and ill at ease hanging in the room as Otabek brought himself to orgasm. Yuri hadn’t wanted to bring him any distress.

He walked through the door. The space was dark, lit with small metal lanterns along the floor. Long panels of red fabric, some sheer, some opaque, hung from the high ceiling in a semi-transparent maze. Yuri wandered through it until it opened up into an alcove. Heavy tapestries and thick cushions lay next to a fire blazing in a stone basin.

Something grabbed him from behind. A heavy arm barred his chest and he froze. 

“And what are you doing here, wanderer?” A voice whispered. 

Yuri turned around. It was Otabek. “Forty hells,” he spluttered, sinking forward. Otabek laughed as he caught Yuri.

“Beka, what is this place?” Yuri asked. He leaned back into Otabek and looked at the seemingly endless ceiling. 

“I have no idea,” Otabek said. A leather harness fastened with a gold ring crossed his chest and held up a kilt made of long leather bands. He kissed Yuri’s cheek. “I don’t remember asking the Tree for anything. I fell asleep almost immediately, and then the next thing I knew, I was here.”

“Well, anywhere with you in it is a good place to be,” Yuri said. 

Otabek wrapped his arms tighter around Yuri. “That’s a nice sentiment,” he said. “But I know you miss your home as much as I miss mine. I haven’t forgotten what I promised you.”

“I know you haven’t,” Yuri said.

Otabek kissed Yuri’s neck. “In a few days,” he said, “I’ll have some free time to visit a library close to where I live. It could be that there are some texts about the folk healers in this region, and there could be some method of helping you--”

“But won’t you get in trouble if you look for such things? I thought most humans were afraid of magic, they think it comes from the devil--”

Otabek placed a finger over Yuri’s lips. “I may have to tell them I’m there for something else,” he said. “But the least I can do is go and look.” He loosened his grip on Yuri, and Yuri turned around to face him. Otabek ran his hand through Yuri’s hair. “You make such an elegant ghost, but I much prefer to see you like this.”

Yuri saw that his spell had not yet worn off. A sly grin crept onto his face. He lay down next to the fire and let himself soak up Otabek’s affection. The heat of Otabek’s breath between his legs made him shiver; the long strokes of Otabek’s tongue made his spine draw like a bowstring. 

“Yuri?” a small voice said. Yuri turned his head and saw a little face peering out from behind one of the long, heavy curtains. Yuri reached for a blanket and threw it over Otabek as fast as he could. Otabek jerked with confusion and started to speak; Yuri mashed his hand into Otabek’s face to quiet him.

“Fedya?” Yuri’s voice cracked from the tension that gripped him.

“Yuri, what are you doing here?” Fedya’s eyes were wide, his wild mop of curls spilled over a gold circlet fashioned in the style of Yuri’s jewelry. He wore a black tunic with a little emblem of a bird’s foot in the center and simple sandals. “Wow, you look like a prince,” Fedya said. He cocked his head. “Hey, Is that Otabek?”

Otabek gently extracted himself from Yuri’s grip and casually slipped out from under the other end of the blanket that covered his and Yuri’s legs.

“Amazing,” Fedya said. “I thought you were a magician, Otabek, but you look like a warrior!” He turned back to Yuri. “What are you doing?” 

“We were, uh, just...playing a game,” Yuri said, still panicked.

“Oh! Can I play?” Fedya asked. 

Otabek pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh.

“Uh...I don’t think you would like this game, Fedya,” Yuri said, wincing as he spoke. 

“Oh.” Fedya looked at the floor.

“What, uh...what brings you all the way...out here?” Yuri asked.

“I was looking for you!” Fedya ran up to Yuri, and Yuri drew his legs together tightly to conceal his erection. Fedya threw his arms around Yuri, and Yuri obligingly gave him a hug, grateful that the blanket remained in place. “What do you think? Do you like how I look as a human? Kolya said he thinks it’s his best spell yet!”

“I...I think you look great,” Yuri said. “It...really suits you.” And Yuri meant it, sincerely. He just wished Fedya could have appeared at any other time.

“Did you see Lilia’s messenger?” Fedya asked. His hands clenched into fists with excitement.

“I did,” Yuri said. Fedya still had no idea that he had far more in common with those ancient silver cranes than he ever would with a human boy, Yuri realized. 

“Does that mean you can come back to the lake?!” 

Yuri was silent for a moment. “Well...yes, I think so...soon, anyways…”

Fedya looked confused.

“Tell Lilia and Grandpa that I’ll be back as soon as I can, won’t you?” Yuri felt his heart crack. He wanted so badly to have the best of both worlds: Otabek’s companionship, and free reign of his home again.

“Why can’t you come back right now?” Fedya looked like he might cry. “Lilia and Kolya said they’d do everything they could to help you! Since Kerebos’ curse didn’t kill you, there’s a good chance the magic can be totally undone!” Yuri felt a wave of dread. “They told me to ask you...did Kerebos make any conditions for his curse? Is there any rule that will break it?”

There was. But Yuri was afraid to say it. Kerebos himself didn’t seem to believe it could be broken. And Yuri didn’t want to say anything to Otabek about love, because he was afraid of making Otabek feel used, manipulated for the sake of undoing magic. That could ruin anything between them, and it was too great of a risk, in Yuri’s mind. Even if the curse were unbreakable, Yuri thought, he still wanted to be with Otabek. Yuri felt a lie knit itself together in his mind.

“There is a condition,” Yuri said, his throat tight with anxiety. “But part of the curse is that I can’t tell anyone what it is.”

“Oh no,” Fedya said. “That’s terrible.”

“And...well...I can’t come back just yet, you see...because I’m teaching Otabek magic,” Yuri said. It was partially true.

“You are?” Fedya’s face lit up again. 

“Yes,” Yuri said. “And there’s another friend of mine...a salamander...who I promised I would teach how to dreamwalk.” 

“You know a salamander?” Fedya looked starstruck. 

“Yes, and I’ll tell you all about him as soon as I get home,” Yuri said. Fedya stood blinking for a moment. “I’m sorry, Fedya,” Yuri said. He discreetly fastened the leopard skin in place again and it lay obediently flat as he stood up. “I’ve missed you all so much I could barely stand it. But there are some things I need to do before I come home. Please be patient with me, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Fedya said. “I understand.”

Yuri knelt on the ground in front of him. “Fedya, did the Tree send you here, or did you make a portal?”

“I just called on the Tree!” Fedya looked elated. “See?” He stretched out his foot. It was scaly and had three long talons. “I can call on it any time!” 

_ Now would be a great time _ , Yuri thought. But he saw that Fedya’s body was already beginning to fade.

“Gosh, I’m so glad to see that you’re all right, Yuri. I’ll see you soon!” Fedya shouted as he disappeared.

Yuri flopped back down in front of the fire, and Otabek cackled with laughter. He reached for Yuri’s hips, but Yuri pressed him away.

“Oh, don’t laugh,” Yuri groaned.

Otabek brushed Yuri’s hand away and kissed his chest. “Yuri. It’s precisely because I know how unpleasant it is to be walked in on that I find this funny,” he said. Yuri squirmed in Otabek’s arms. “Oh, don’t push me away,” Otabek said. He held Yuri’s waist and kissed his abdomen. “Don’t you have some ‘magic’ to teach me?” He asked with a grin.

Yuri sighed. “Come here,” he said. Otabek leaned forward to kiss him, and Yuri soon forgot all about the sudden intrusion. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek has an unfortunate encounter at Nekola's tavern. Yuri is still getting closer to freedom, but Kerebos's magic is not as simple as he wishes it were.

Yuri gazed into the fire as he lay on the tapestries with Otabek. Fire was all about chaos. Unpredictability. Change. Yuri could never have predicted he would feel the way he did. And yet, at the same time, he thought, it was the nature of snow to melt; to lose form, regain chaos, and go back to fluid water. Every snowflake had echoes of every other snowflake the water had ever been. It was good for things to change, to flow. He turned over to kiss Otabek. 

Otabek was a conjurer again in this space. In the absence of a wall or furniture to play with, they’d taken turns pressing the other into the floor. Trails of sweat glistened down their bodies next to the fire. Yuri felt that the heat urged him on, making him want more from Otabek; Otabek remembered the heat of the bathhouse. Everything he’d been tempted but too afraid to do there, he could do here. Yuri teased him mercilessly with his mouth before climbing onto him. It had never dawned on Otabek until then just how much he liked being teased: baited and provoked like an animal, letting the pain of anticipation build up, then finally allowed to strike. The give and take of control intensified everything for him, until he was left with a euphoric feeling of Yuri’s body drinking his own soul out of him. 

Otabek simply willed himself and Yuri clean again as they recovered together. Yuri still felt pleasantly sore, his mind still blurred in the delirium of happiness from lying with Otabek. After a short while, they were inclined to get up and move again. Yuri walked through the dream realm with his hand clasped in Otabek’s. The red forest seemed endless, and they did not encounter a soul. 

As they walked, they conjured forms that hovered in the air in front of them, and disappeared at will.

“I’m sure at some point in your life you must have had many dreams where you had this power,” Yuri said. “You just don’t fully remember them.”

“You must be right,” Otabek said thoughtfully. “I can think of so many nights when I fell asleep thinking of a difficult problem, and in the morning, I had a fresh insight into how to solve it. Or even afternoons when I dozed off, and woke up with a clear head. But what I don’t understand,” he gave Yuri’s hand a squeeze, “is why I’ve only just now begun to remember my dreams so much more clearly.”

Yuri wished it was because of him, but he couldn’t be sure. And he didn’t know what to say. 

“Well, I think you ought to do everything you can to take advantage of this time,” Yuri said as they walked into a grove of flaming red willows that bowed toward a pink lake. “You can come up with ideas here, and work out solutions...then you can get back to other things.”

Otabek hadn’t quite been sure what Yuri meant by ‘other things’ exactly. He searched for Yuri the following day, but found him difficult to see and hear, barely perceptible as before. No taunts in his ear as he walked to work. Otabek watched the tiny light sit next to the little figure in the music box on the desk in front of him. Yuri was quiet, either sitting in deep meditation or lying on his back, looking up at the sky out the window. Yuri stayed in the music box when Otabek went to eat lunch with Leo and Christophe.

“Yuri? Where are you?” Otabek asked when he returned. Yuri peered up over the edge of the box. Otabek reached out his hand. Yuri climbed into his palm, then collapsed onto his belly like a tiny glowing caterpillar, if such a creature could experience a feeling of abject defeat.

“What’s wrong, little star?” Otabek asked quietly. “You seem far dimmer today.” At that moment, Otabek noticed Guang Hong looking up at him from the desk. “Yuri,” Otabek said. “Your friend has come to visit you, and you won't even say anything?” 

Yuri continued to mope. 

“Altin!” Yakov appeared at the door. 

Otabek flinched. “I’ll be right there,” he said. He set Yuri down discreetly and reached for a portfolio case on the end of the desk. 

Yakov frowned. “Is there someone in your office?”

“Uh...no,” Otabek said, walking out into the hall with Yakov. 

“Then who were you talking to?” Yakov asked.

Otabek sighed. “Myself,” he said with a shrug. “It...helps me think.”

“If you insist,” Yakov said.

Yuri jolted out of his misery when Yakov appeared and then flew to the door, listening. But once the two men vanished into a long, dimly lit conference room across the hall, Yuri drifted back to the desk and collapsed again, deflated with sadness.

“Yuri? Are you all right?” Guang Hong asked. He stood over Yuri, blinking.

“I’m fine,” Yuri groaned.

Guang Hong was quiet for a moment. “I don’t understand why you are so clearly lying to me,” he said, completely guilelessly.

Yuri opened his eyes and looked up at Guang Hong. Astral tears spilled from the sides of them. Yuri sat up and put his face in his hands. “Guang Hong, how do you do it? How do you live like this?! How can you stand to be so far from where you come from?” Guang Hong sat down next to him. “How can you stand to never take your human form?” Yuri wailed and tugged at the ends of his hair. “Every time I reach out and clutch empty air, I feel like I could scream! I miss my home so badly...I miss being normal. I miss being able to speak, touch things...if I have to be in this strange place, that’s bad enough! But to barely be able to touch or speak to Otabek is miserable!” He wrapped his arms around his knees and sobbed. Astral tears like tiny pieces of mica scattered across the table, and vanished. 

“I still miss where I come from sometimes,” Guang Hong said softly. “But...it’s not the place I miss. It’s my family. Even if I did go back, it wouldn’t be the same, because the people and their home aren't there anymore.” He turned to look at Yuri. “But I do know what it’s like...to be separated from something that you miss, yes.” His voice reminded Yuri of the gentle cracking of flames. 

“What did you do?” Yuri asked, sniffling.

“Well...there wasn’t really anything I could do,” Guang Hong said, thoughtful. “I just…” The glow around him got brighter, and Yuri could feel sadness burning off of him. “I just had to...let myself be sad. I couldn’t stop it. Or fix it.” 

Yuri nodded slowly.

“And then, well...being somewhere new helped. Everything was different, and it took my mind off things sometimes. I was lucky to meet Leo,” Guang Hong said, smiling. Then he looked stern again. “I know there are still things you can do about your curse. I just don’t know what, exactly. But as for feeling sadness, well...I don’t think you can do much about that. Sometimes it helps to just let it happen.”

_ Let it fall like snow _ , Yuri thought. He took a deep breath and lay back down on the desk. Guang Hong lay down next to him.

“So, how did it go last night?” Yuri asked. He wiped his eyes with his forearm, dispersing more sparkly light.

“I remembered something!” Guang Hong said. “I saw a beautiful red forest.”

_ A red forest? That’s bizarre _ , Yuri thought.  _ Where did the Tree take us last night? _

“But I couldn’t remember much more than that,” Guang Hong said.

“No, that’s good, that’s really good!” Yuri said. He watched the sunlight glint off the thread connecting him to the doll. “Every time you remember something, it makes it much easier to remember more next time,” he said. To his surprise, explaining the beginnings of dreamwalking to Guang Hong was making him feel much more lighthearted than before. “Each night, keep trying to remember as much as you can. And then, once you recognize that you’re dreaming, and you can see the thread that connects you to your physical body, you can start to call on the Tree of Life.”

“What’s the Tree of Life?” Guang Hong asked. “It sounds familiar…”

Yuri’s face peeled into a smile.

❅

Yakov clapped Otabek proudly on the back as they left the meeting. Yuri floated onto his shoulder and stayed with him; Guang Hong rode on the brim of Leo’s hat as they walked to Nekola’s tavern. 

Emil walked over, beaming. “What brings you in? I wasn’t expecting to see the two of you!” 

“I think some celebration is in order,” Leo said. He grabbed Otabek’s shoulder. “That short-range cannon Beka designed is about to become standard on a new fleet of ships. The whole navy is about to get the golden, Altin touch.”

Otabek tried not to smile too wide. “Leo, you didn’t even tell him about your own project, did you? Leo here has a commission for the Tsar. A whole evening of fireworks.”

“Sit yourselves down,” Emil said with a wink. “You won’t be disappointed.”

The tavern was lively but not too crowded. The three men had each downed a huge stein of beer when the bell on the door jingled and a whoosh of cold air announced the arrival of two new guests. 

Petukhov made a face. “Oh dear,” he said. “And here I was hoping to eat without the presence of foreign scum.”

Gorky cocked his head. “They let just anyone into the academy these days, don’t they?” He and his companion took the seats one stool over from Otabek. Gorky snapped his fingers and demanded a beer from a waitress. 

Otabek rolled his eyes. Yuri could feel the waves of anger rising up from deep inside him. 

“Tell me, Altin,” Gorky said. “Was it the devil you consorted with to obtain your latest design, or just some minor demon?”

Emil and Leo stared at the intruders. 

Otabek grit his teeth, then turned to Gorky. “It must be very difficult for you, having no intellect of your own, to even imagine what it’s like to have an original idea.” 

Yuri began to feel worried. Gorky was clearly flustered, but Petukhov wore a fox-like smile. 

Gorky sneered. “Everyone knows you’re only kept around because Nikiforov likes to think of the academy of his own personal...toy box.” He looked Otabek up and down.

Yuri sensed Otabek simmering with cold rage. “Beka, be careful,” he tried to whisper into Otabek’s ear. “He’s trying to get you riled up.” But Otabek seemed not to hear him.

“I’ll be sure to mention that to the General when I visit him in his home this weekend,” Otabek said, “for a diplomatic dinner that you will not be attending.”

Leo leaned across Otabek. “Everyone knows Yakov is the one who hired Otabek, you bulbous ass.” 

“Let me ask you something,” Otabek said, his eyes narrow. Yuri felt the tension rising in his body.

“Beka, they’re just baiting you!” Yuri said. “They’re setting you up! I think they want you to duel with them!” 

“Your father was a naval engineer, was he not?” Otabek asked.

Gorky scoffed. “What rock have you been living under? Of course he was. Or have you been too busy fellating the general to pay attention?”

Otabek seethed. Yuri turned and spotted something above the bar: a framed shadow box containing two crossed rifles, set into green velvet. “Guang Hong, I need you to help me!” Yuri shouted. He grabbed the salamander’s hand. 

“What do you mean?”

“The rifles,” Yuri said. “I need to create a distraction.” 

Otabek glared at Gorky. “If your father knew anything about efficiency,” the words dripped from his mouth like poison, “he would realize it’s much easier to simply give you an allowance rather than pay off the academy to keep you around.”

Yuri prayed his plan would work. He and Guang Hong pushed the framed box as hard as they could.

A loud crash made the room go silent. The waitresses behind the bar screamed in shock at the shattered glass of the frame and their fallen trays of glasses. 

“What the hell was that?” Petukhov looked around.

Emil rushed over to his servers to check on them. Glass and spilt water and beer covered the floor. Emil stood up and pointed at Gorky. “Get out,” he said. “If the two of you can’t be civil to my guests, I refuse to serve you. Take your senseless gossip elsewhere.”

Gorky and Petukhov were silent for a second.

“Do you have ears?” Emil shouted. “I told you to get out of here! If you insult my friends, you insult me! Now leave!” 

The tavern was silent, Emil’s voice echoed as the other guests stared at Gorky and Petukhov.

“You are still a smear on the academy,” Petukhov said to Otabek as he walked out behind Gorky, slamming the door behind him. 

There was an uneasy moment of quiet as the chatter in the room resumed. Otabek slumped over the table. 

“What a shame you refused to serve them, Emil,” Leo said. “I think you missed a fine opportunity to sneak laxatives into their food.”

Otabek made a sound that was not quite a laugh. 

Guang Hong looked deeply distraught. “I never liked the two of them,” he said to Yuri. “But I never realized they’d say such vile things.” 

Yuri clicked his fingers and stood up. He draped his arms around Otabek’s shoulders. Perhaps taking care of Otabek would require more than just fire and water magic, he thought.

❆

“Yura, that was you, wasn’t it?” Otabek asked. “At the tavern?” He wore a heavy mantle of black leaves that would take Yuri all night to remove. His astral body looked as tired as the physical one that lay sleeping.

“Yes,” Yuri said.

“Yura, what were you thinking?” Otabek said. “Why did you do that? They already suspect me of being involved in some sort of witchcraft--”

“Well you are!” Yuri said. “Just because it’s witchcraft doesn’t make it evil! What do you think we do every time we call on the Tree of Life?”

“Yuratchka…” Otabek sighed.

“Beka, I had to do something! I hate them! I don’t understand why they are so against you, but they are the ones who are up to no good here! I thought they wanted to provoke you. To make you agree to a duel. Call me crazy, but when I looked at Petukhov, it was like I could feel images of what he wanted, what he had in mind.”

Otabek sat down on the side of the bed. He reached for Yuri’s hand and pulled him onto his lap. Yuri held Otabek’s face and kissed him.

“Beka, I promise, I’m trying to help you,” he said. 

“Yura, this doesn’t make me look good,” Otabek said. “I have to be discreet--”

“But those two lunatics could have caused it, too,” Yuri said, brushing Otabek’s vest away to loop his arms around Otabek’s waist. “And it could have been an accident. Beka, there’s no way for a normal person to move an object with their mind, not unless--”

“Unless they made deals with the devil?” Otabek said.

“Beka,” Yuri groaned, “what would you have said, if Guang Hong and I hadn’t stopped you? What would you have done?  _ I  _ wanted to kill those two maggots right then and there! And if it weren’t for the possibility of making you look bad, I might have! If I’d known the spell to do it!”

Otabek held Yuri close to him for a moment and was quiet. “I’m not sure what I would have done,” he said. “I should thank you.”

Yuri kissed Otabek’s cheek, beneath his ear, and his neck. “Beka, you look exhausted. You should stay near your body tonight, otherwise you’re going to feel awful when you get up in the morning.”

Otabek smiled faintly. “Is it bad that I don’t want to spend a night without you?”

Yuri glowed at the words, but it didn’t displace his worry. “Beka...I really need to go back to Berezhovoye tonight. Just for a night. I have to check on my lake, it’s becoming unbearable for me to be away from it.”

“I understand,” Otabek said. 

Yuri stood up and kissed Otabek’s forehead. “I’ll be back in the morning. Now, please get some rest, won’t you?” Yuri drew four sigils in the air and pictured the home that he missed so terribly. The air turned to liquid silver. “No matter where I go, I’ll still be right here.” He pointed to the doll on the night table. 

Otabek took Yuri’s hand and kissed it. “Good night my love.”

Yuri smiled and turned around. Otabek didn’t see the glittering tears that ran down Yuri’s face as he walked through the portal. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek discovers he can still dreamwalk if he agrees to a curious condition. Kolya is hopeful that Yuri can be cured, but Lilia gives Yuri a grave warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life got a little crazy for a while, but I finally had time for an update. Cross your fingers for me that I can find an agent for my manuscript now that it's finished! ^^

Yuri walked silently out of his portal and into the moonlit woods. Before he had a chance to collect himself, he saw Kolya’s astral body standing at the edge of the lake, his silver thread leading to the hollow of his favorite tree nearby. Kolya had watched the shimmering door appear, and smiled when he saw Yuri walk out of it. Yuri wondered what he knew, and whether he could tell how shaken Yuri had been by Otabek’s words. A dreadful thought seized Yuri’s mind again: what if he had been so changed by his time away and his time with Otabek that he no longer belonged in Berezhovoye? What would he do then? Kolya didn’t say anything as Yuri approached, just reached out his arms and embraced him.

Kolya’s familiar, warm shaggy coat and the smell of the crisp autumn night air made Yuri feel almost as if he were fully back in his physical body. Without meaning to, Yuri found himself suddenly crying again. “I’m so sorry, Grandpa,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to run away.”

Koyla stroked Yuri’s hair. “Yuratchka,” he said calmly. “Let me have a look at you.” He lay his hands on Yuri’s shoulders, and Yuri sniffled with embarrassment. “Something is different about you.”

“Well...of course,” Yuri said. “I have this curse on me.”

“Yes, but that isn’t all there is.” Kolya twinged his beard. “Here. Let us see.” He sounded more curious than worried, which brought Yuri some relief. Kolya held up his hand and drew four sigils in the air. They glowed green like the leaves he tended to. A mirror-like square appeared between them, and to Yuri’s surprise, it was still, not rippling. Kolya put his arm around Yuri’s shoulders. “I see you can make portals on your own now,” he said with a proud grin. “So there is no reason for me not to show you this.” He gestured toward the astral glass hovering in front of them. “If you create a portal that leads back to exactly where you are, it holds still. It creates a mirror that shows astral qualities.”

Yuri looked at their reflection, but at first all he could see was himself in his typical clothing, wings outstretched and glowing. Kolya looked the same. 

“I see…” Kolya said, squinting. “That witch’s magic has covered you like a blanket of snow. But there are a few breaks in it! Like when an ermine sticks his head out.” Kolya smiled at his analogy, but then he looked somber. “Yuratchka...how lucky you are that Kerebos didn’t kill you,” he said softly. “This curse is no trifle.”

“Grandpa...I still don’t see anything,” Yuri said, confused and frustrated. At most, he sense a tiny bit of movement around his reflection, like a thin fog hovering over the surface of the lake.

“Ah, that part, well...it takes a little more practice,” Kolya said. He patted Yuri on the back. “As for what I can see...hm...on the surface of things, it looks as though Kerebos meant to get rid of you. Yes. There’s a heaviness. One that only comes with an intent to kill. If you spend more time watching the animals hunt, Yuratchka, you will feel it around them. But there’s something else.” Kolya peered forward.

Yuri, unsure of what else to do, simply let himself be examined. 

“Ah...such density to this magic!” Kolya said. “And yet I sense the curse is breakable. Yes.” He stared intently. “There is a formula that will undo it. I believe Kerebos kept you alive for a reason, Yura. It’s almost as if he wants you to prove that it can be undone.”

_ I’ll prove it to him if it’s the last thing I do _ , Yuri thought. “I still don’t understand how you can tell all this,” Yuri said.

Kolya tapped the side of his head with his finger. “Practice, like I said. Now let’s see. There is something else…”

Yuri tried to let go and let the images come on their own; he ached to see what Kolya could: there were dark bands of smoke wrapped around his reflection, swirling with complex, sigil-like writing that glowed within them. An unusually bright light shone from Yuri’s chest, one Kolya had never seen in him before. The longer Yuri looked into the portal mirror, the more the light and dark gradually became visible to him. 

“Fedya tells me you aren’t allowed to speak of the curse’s conditions, is that so?” Kolya asked.

Yuri felt nervous and ashamed again for having lied to Fedya. But he was afraid to tell Kolya, too. What if it were completely forbidden for a fairy to consort with a human? Would Kolya and Lilia try to keep him away from Otabek?

“Uh...yes,” Yuri said, his astral throat felt dry.

“Something has happened to your heart,” Kolya said. He tilted his head with curiosity. “Does it feel different to you?”

_ It hurts all the time and I don’t understand why _ , Yuri thought. “Uh...sometimes. Why? What do you see, Grandpa?”

“Even I am not quite sure,” Kolya said. “This is one for Lilia. But I’m afraid she can’t join us just yet. You can see there’s no thread coming from the lake. She is quite busy.”

Yuri just nodded. “Am I too late?” He asked. “Are the rites already starting without us?” 

“No, no, not yet,” Kolya said. “But soon. The moon hasn’t yet reached its zenith.”

“I need a little time,” Yuri said. “Just to...be with the water…”

“Take your time, Yuri. I’ll see you soon,” Kolya said. He gave Yuri another hug.

Yuri looked into the still water of the lake. No reflection, no circles on the surface from astral tears falling. They simply disappeared into darkness. Yuri walked out along the surface of the lake into the very center, listening, sensing. He ached to fully feel the liquid crystal beneath his feet. 

❄

_ Good evening. You have reached the Tree of Life. _

Otabek felt his nerves and bones glowing. It was odd to be alone with the Tree, and not have Yuri with him. 

_ Traveling is not advised for you this evening. _

Otabek took a deep breath. “Are you sure?” he asked the Tree.

_ Guides are standing by to assist you. _

“Then send me a guide,” Otabek said. He felt himself lift out of his physical body and into a dark, liminal space. Suddenly he saw a little fluttering white object appear. A moth. As it drew closer, Otabek realized it was as big as he was, and he couldn’t tell if the moth was exceptionally large, or if he was now unusually small.

The moth stood on her bottom two legs, long and dainty, and her heavy wings hung around her like a great sweeping cape, covered in an attractive spotted pattern of browns and grays. A thick, fuzzy ruff lay about her shoulders, like an elegant lady’s fur stole in the winter. Long, fringed, velvety antennae topped her head like a satin bow, and she looked at Otabek with huge, oval black eyes, so shiny he could see his bewildered reflection. “Good evening,” she said, in a voice that sounded like a whisper. She stepped into a deep curtsy, stretching her wings out at full length behind her. 

Otabek stood awestruck for a moment, looking at the giant insect who had the poise of an aristocrat. This was not what he’d had in mind when he’d asked for a guide. How he’d hoped to see his sister’s face again…

“My name is Dunya,” the moth said. “I am a moth of Berezhovoye. You wish to go to Berezhovoye, don’t you?”

“Well, yes,” Otabek said. “If that’s where Yuri is.”

“Indeed. He just arrived a moment ago.” She walked in a slow circle around him, looking him up and down. “But you are clearly not well.”

Otabek sighed. “Please don’t tell me I have to stay here tonight.”

The moth held up a little hooked claw of a finger. “Where I am going, everything is tiny,” she said. “So perhaps you can come with me, if you are tiny as well.”

“I don’t quite understand what you mean,” Otabek said.

“I can bring you with me, if you agree to be the size of a moth.”

_ Which is essentially the size of a fairy _ , Otabek thought. “Well, all right. I don’t see any harm in it.” He wasn’t about to argue with the Tree.

“Good!” Dunya said, narrowing her eyes as though smiling. “Now, let’s see. You’ll need to be able to fly.” She cocked her head. “Do you have an affinity with any element in particular? Earth or wood perhaps?” She noticed the gold leaves on his head. “Oh, of course! Metals!” She lifted her hand up quickly with a zipping motion, and Otabek heard a sudden whooshing sound.

He looked over his shoulder. Two gold and coppery feathered wings extended from his back, much like the ones belonging to the stately Pegasus that had carried him and Yuri across the vast ice fields. Even the heavy coating of black leaves still hanging in the air around his sleeping body was no match for this. Otabek felt brilliant, as though he’d squeezed out of a trap. 

“Shall we fly?” The genteel moth lady asked.

Otabek nodded emphatically. He then realized he had no idea how to fly, and wore a look of consternation on his face. 

“About that,” she said. “Trust the wings. Let them do it for you.”

That seemed far too easy. But things were often not as they seemed in dreams, so Otabek chose not to argue. He linked his arm through one of Dunya’s, and before he knew it, they were flying through the dark space at a rapid speed, his wings adjusting their position here and there, intelligent on their own. 

“Dunya,” Otabek asked, “Are you from one of the upper worlds?”

“Why yes!” She looked most pleased. “My visits to Earth are not very long,” she said, “moths live short lives here. But in the upper realms, we keep knowledge of all kinds of things!”

“You don’t happen to know anything about curses, do you?” Otabek asked.

The moth looked perplexed; she blinked rapidly and drew her head back into her fluffy ruff. “It depends on the curse,” she said. “My kind do not cast any spells on our own.”

“I see. Well, do you think there’s anything I can see tonight that could possibly help Yuri?”

The moth turned to him. “Perhaps. It all depends on what you are willing to see. So! Keep your eyes open, traveler!”

The dark space opened up into a dense patch of woods, illuminated by an enormous full moon. Dunya landed on the ground, to Otabek’s surprise, and they walked arm-in-arm over the forest floor toward the lake, as though striding up to an elegant ball. At first Otabek was confused as to why they were walking. He looked at himself; he wore a dark blue tunic not unlike Yuri’s white one, and was barefoot. Then, he understood the immense amount of information that was passing to him through the soles of his astral feet.

The ground was alive, and very busy. Lines of telluric energy flowed through it. Tiny creatures alchemized the leaf litter into new soil, a carefully timed chemical symphony. An underground metro of mole tunnels wove its way through the forest, and the roots of every tree and plant sent signals to each other at alarming speed.  _ So this is Yuri’s earthly world _ , Otabek realized. Within just a few square centimeters of Earth, there was a whole buzzing cacophony of activity, all extremely tiny, all happening without language. As they walked, Otabek understood that to be a fairy meant to be privy to an elaborate world, more complex in its mechanisms than anything even the finest of engineers could imagine. For the first time in his life, he felt truly small. Humbled.

Duyna stopped as they neared the water. “What can you tell me about this tree, Otabek?”

Otabek looked up at the massive tree above them. He felt the roots below with his feet. “I’m not sure,” he said. 

“Yes you are,” Dunya said. She kept looking at him until he understood. 

_ The tree? _ Otabek felt his spine and nerves for answers...then images flashed into his mind. Otabek realized it was the tree where Kolya made his home. It was the tree where Fedya hatched, and where Dunya would make her cocoon to overwinter. “This tree is very important to Yuri, isn’t it?” Otabek asked. 

“Trees spend their entire lives gazing at the sky,” Dunya said. “They are excellent record-keepers of all the celestial bodies. Every tree in this forest remembers the day Yuri’s star fell.” She had the countenance of a proud grandmother. “But this tree is the one who felt it first! And I’ll tell you a secret about this tree. It has a link to the upper worlds. When the talking animals of these woods are born, they have a natural love for this tree. It awakens something in them.”

_ Yuri’s star... _ Otabek remembered the strange pool he’d been immersed into, the unbearable sadness he’d felt, and the child with starry voids for eyes. “Dunya, can you tell me anything else about where Yuri comes from?”

“Well,” she looked pensive, “he certainly comes from a different realm than I! But you know, Otabek, I’m not sure even Yuri himself knows very much about where he comes from. Did he show you the crystal cliffs?”

“I don’t know what cliffs you’re talking about.”

“There’s a realm where he stores his memories in beautiful obelisks, is there not?”

“There is,” Otabek said. “I’ve seen it. It was incredibly beautiful.”

She raised her claw again. “There are cliffs of ice in that realm,” she said, “that hold memories, too. But of all the places in the astral worlds I’ve ever heard Yuri speak about, that is the one place he seems the most afraid to go.”

Otabek nodded, curious, wondering. He looked across the lake and saw an astral figure standing on the surface of the water. “Yuri!” He started to fly to him, but Dunya caught his hand.

“No, no, don’t go to him!” she said. “Now is not the time.”

Another figure emerged from the water. A pale woman with long, dark hair and a silver thread leading deep into the lake stood in front of Yuri and spoke to him, but Otabek couldn’t quite make out the words, or if she even spoke in a truly human language. She walked around Yuri, examining his spectre all over, looking at his teeth and hands as though he were an animal she was buying at auction. Otabek immediately resented her. She looked at Yuri with a grave expression of dissatisfaction. But what could possibly be wrong with him?

Yuri clicked his fingers and flew off to the other side of the lake, his light looking dimmer than usual. 

"Wait, where is he going?" Otabek asked.

"The rites are starting," Dunya said. 

"The rites?" 

"The rites of autumn. A very important time here."

Otabek looked around. All over the forest, all kinds of creatures were gathering around huge clusters of mushrooms. A great cloud of bats circled around the moon. 

Long lines of crickets, frogs, field mice, moths, and ants danced in concentric circles around the mushrooms. Even the snails and slugs waved their antennae and swayed in time to the beat that came from no music at all, but from the pulsing life of the forest itself. Even the diurnal creatures made an appearance for the rites. The branches of each tree began to fill up with birds and squirrels. Rabbits and foxes, deer, wolves, and even a sleepy, grumpy bear watched the dancing from a cautious distance. 

"It is a celebration of the tiny," Dunya said. "Even the biggest and most powerful creatures know that all life begins and ends with the small.”

Now it seemed that every cluster of mushrooms in the forest was surrounded by rings of dancing animals. It wasn’t frenzied, by Otabek’s assessment, but it was fast, and precise. Some of the creatures lifted their arms in the air and twirled about before linking back up with their neighbors; others kicked their feet or jumped in a lively jig. Each of them seemed to know exactly where to be and how to move. The mushrooms grew taller as the creatures danced. Otabek stood still and saw how their movements created patterns of colorful light that swirled over the forest floor. 

“Dunya, why are the mushrooms so sacred to them?” Otabek asked. He could not click his fingers and change his size the way Yuri could. He looked all around and felt moved by what he saw. Animals he would previously have flung away from himself in disgust or written off as merely vermin were stirred by a deep and intelligent magic. Yuri’s neighbors. 

“When winter comes, everything will be still,” Dunya said. “So now is an important time of preparation! The forest must be cleansed of the old and the dead, so the spring thaw can bring in the fresh and the new. And for that, we have no greater friends than the tiny.”

Something else caught Otabek’s eye in the distance. The astral bodies of two horses stood partially hidden in the brush, looking at the sacred tree, their silver threads leading off in the direction of the Countess’s estate. They seemed familiar to Otabek, and although he wasn’t sure why, he had the distinct impression they were speaking to each other. They began to retreat.

“Dunya, can we fly? There’s something else I want to see. The Countess lives near here, doesn’t she?”

“She does. However, I’m not sure it’s wise to visit her like this. Most likely, it will only trouble and confuse her.”

“No, I don’t mean to visit her this evening,” Otabek said. “I just wish to visit the property.”

“I see no problem with it.” 

They sailed over the whirling forest, underneath the whirling sky. Otabek remembered a few dreams of flying as a child, but none felt as vivid or spectacular as this. It dawned on Otabek that even the tiniest and grimiest insects could achieve this remarkable feat, but ordinary man could not.  _ What a lucky fellow Yuri is, to be able to fly! _ Otabek thought.  _ But then, perhaps this is the only way in which Yuri is lucky these days. _

Otabek searched for the two horses below, and followed them discreetly. They were talking, but in soft, hushed voices, and they kept carefully to the center of the path, so as not to disturb the pulsing celebration, even as gentle ghosts. Otabek supposed their physical bodies must be shut in their stable. But of course they would want to see this!

Otabek flew a bit closer.

“Orion, you always have so many questions,” the older of the two said. She shook her shimmering mane. “And so many I can barely answer!”

“I’m sorry, Mama,” he said.

“Well, I prefer that to a dull mind that doesn’t want to know anything. Now tell me, what constellation do you see above us?” 

Otabek looked ahead and saw the stables in the distance, but to his surprise, the horses strode instead into Mila’s garden. There, the spectres of three women stood over a raised bed of herbs. Otabek hid behind the spike of an iron fence post. 

“What’s the matter?” Dunya asked.

“It’s Anya,” Otabek said. 

“Who?”

“I know her. She’s a friend of the Countess--”

“You mean the witch?” Dunya tilted her head. “I never caught her name.”

_ So she _ is  _ a witch! _ “Dunya, what are they doing? Who are the others with her?”

The other women wore simple linen dresses as opposed to Anya’s black gown. Like Yuri, they had wings, but theirs looked like long, green leaves; four each, instead of six. 

“They are gnomes,” Dunya said. “Like Kolya. They keep a medicinal garden for the Countess.”

_ Well, ‘medicinal’ certainly doesn’t sound evil, _ Otabek thought. But Anya had been correct. Something evil had followed Yuri, for sure. 

Anya and the gnomes spoke to the horses and patted their flanks. The tiger-scorpion sauntered up to them, and walked with the horses deeper into the woods.

“Dunya, if the horses can speak to Anya, why don’t they speak to Mila? Or do you think...they would speak to me?”

Dunya tapped her claw-like fingertips together pensively. “Well...think about how much it has thrown your life into disarray to meet a fairy,” she said with compassion. “Imagine what would happen, for an ordinary person like the Countess to encounter a talking animal.”

Otabek sighed, his wings drooped. He’d so hoped that perhaps he could tell Mila the truth about Yuri, that she might have some way of understanding that he wasn’t crazy. “I’m sure you’re right,” he said. 

“I’m sorry, Otabek,” Dunya said. Otabek found it difficult to believe that she was only a moth, and not some wise old woman playing at shapeshifting. “People pray for miracles all the time. They wish to see miraculous things...but then, when they do happen, they are terrified! Or people simply refuse to accept them, or believe them. Or when they try to tell others about what they’ve seen, they’re ridiculed and vilified.” She leaned against the other side of the iron spike. “There are many animals who would love to speak to humans, but so few humans who are able to hear them! Miraculous things can occur at any moment, but people do not allow it.”

Otabek thought of the Tree of Life.  _ Whatever miracles you’d like to bring my way, I’m ready to accept! _

_   
_ “Most people would not have accepted the possibility of Yuri being real,” Dunya said. “So in a way, it’s a miracle that you accepted him. He knows this, Otabek. And I know that it’s a burden for you to carry what you know about him, and not be able to explain it to anyone. Most humans cannot handle the reality of magic. They think it is simply madness. But every now and then, you find someone who welcomes it.”

Otabek contemplated speaking to Anya, not in the dream, but in waking life. He knew he risked her ire, but he wasn’t sure what else to do. When the horses left for the woods again, Anya and the two gnomes began dancing around the garden bed; their movements were more elegant than those of the frogs, but not of an altogether different kind. The light of the moon made Otabek feel as if he were underwater. 

“I won’t be able to see Yuri tonight, will I?” Otabek asked. 

“No,” Dunya said. “He and Kolya have an important role to play in the rites. Yuri is the one who takes over once winter falls.”

_ No wonder he was so anxious to come back _ , Otabek thought. He supposed the creatures of the woods would be like an orchestra without their conductor. All masterful players, but still in need of a guide.  _ I shouldn’t try to take him away from here. Once he’s back to normal... _

“Not every glade has an ice fairy, you know,” Dunya said. “Berezhovoye is lucky. Yuri can be such a petulant brat,” she said, “but he makes this place shine!”

“Agreed on both counts,” Otabek said. He sat on the railing and watched the dancing figures. They looked as if they were drawing down the moon, imbuing the plants with its silver light. “Dunya, is there anywhere else I can go tonight, while I’m like this?” He looked at his palms.

“You can always ask the Tree,” Dunya said. “I can still accompany you, if you’d like.”

Otabek nodded. He looked at a fuzzy larch near the wall of the manor house and flew over to it with Dunya. “Show me anything that will help someone,” he said. “Whether it’s myself, Yuri, or someone we know.” He linked arms with the moth again and the space around them turned dark. 

❆

Otabek and Dunya hovered against a yellow sky. Set at the top of a hill in front of them was a fortress made of dark gray stone.

“Where is this place?” Otabek asked.

“I’m not sure,” Dunya said. They flew closer to the entrance to the ominous-looking building. A deep moat was carved around it. Otabek saw that it was not filled with water, but with black snakes, hissing and writhing over each other. 

“I’m not normally one to doubt the Tree,” Dunya said cautiously, “but I have my doubts about this place.”

“Wait a second,” Otabek said. He hovered in front of the enormous iron door. A huge stone mask the height of a man was bolted to the front of it. It looked like Michele’s face, but much older and more grotesque. Its blank eyes stared out at nothing, its hollow slot of a mouth gaped. Otabek noticed writing on the door; a different set of glyphs than the ones that adorned Yuri’s obelisks, but Otabek sensed that they served a similar purpose, and that it was Michele’s memories that lived in this somber place.

“This mask is called a Mouth of Truth,” Otabek said.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Dunya said.

“It’s said to bite off the hand of anyone who tells a lie,” Otabek said. 

The two of them heard loud, ferocious hissing. Then a snap of jaws.

“Oh no, Otabek!” Dunya grabbed his hand and tugged him along with her, higher up into the sky. “Those aren’t just serpents, they’re wyverns! We have to go!” She flew with him as fast as she could, away from the dragon-like creature streaming after them. “Quick, we must get back to the Tree!” The landscape was desolate, only hills covered in dry, grayish colored grass. “But there are no trees here?”

“Dunya, let’s go!” Otabek stretched out his wings, and visualizing them as branches, snapped the two of them out of the air as the wyvern’s jaws clamped onto nothing.

❄

Otabek found himself back in his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, his normal size, yet still feeling panicked and out of breath from the nightmare realm he’d just escaped from. The black leaves were piled around him, but no longer touching his body. He saw them gently crumbling away into astral ashes. Dunya stood in the palm of Otabek’s hand. She fluffed up serenely.

“I greatly enjoyed traveling with you this evening,” Dunya said. “You’re a very strong dreamer, I must say. Well, Otabek, I’ll take my leave. If you have need of a guide in the future, you know where to find me!”

And the tiny moth flew off, following her barely perceptible thread that wove through the silent rooftops of Saint Petersburg. The sky was still dark, but the horizon turned a deep green at the suggestion of the arriving light.

Otabek felt a sudden rippling in the air. A portal opened next to the bed, and Yuri’s astral body tumbled out of it, collapsing on the mattress. The thread connecting him to the doll on the night table reappeared. Otabek was startled.

“Yuri? You’re back already?”

Yuri yawned and stretched, then lay down across Otabek’s lap like an oversized housecat. “Yes...the rites are finished,” he creaked more than said. He sounded exhausted to Otabek. His palms faced the ceiling, his chest heaved. Otabek noticed that tiny veins of blue light coursed over the surface of his skin. 

“Yuri, there’s so much I have to tell you,” Otabek said. “I went to Berezhovoye, and…” 

Yuri didn’t seem to hear a word. His eyelids fluttered, and his body went still. 

“Yuri?” Otabek ran his hand gingerly along the back of Yuri’s neck.

“Sorry, Beka…” Yuri whispered. “I have to...stay by the doll, for a while…”

Otabek realized he had no idea what Yuri’s role was in the rites, and how much it must have taken out of him. And why had he come back so soon?

Otabek slipped back into his physical body, and guided Yuri’s ghost to lie next to him until the sun came up. He thought of everything he had seen that night: an entirely new dimension to life, the lively astral beings surrounding the Countess’s estate, the mysterious fortress bearing the diplomat’s face. He ached at not being able to tell anyone. 

  
  


❅

The following day, Otabek was distracted by the two tiny lights walking slow laps around the edge of his desk. He was irritated; here Yuri was teaching the salamander all about dream magic, occasionally sending up a few tiny sparks of fire or frost, but he’d hardly said a word to Otabek all day, and had mostly slept in Otabek’s shirt pocket on their walk to the office. 

“Yuri, aren’t you going to tell me what that other spirit said to you, out at the lake? She had such a frightful look, I was worried about you,” Otabek whispered as he walked down an empty alley, away from the morning crowd. 

“Yes, I’ll tell you, I promise,” Yuri said, forcing his voice to be audible as he climbed inside Otabek’s jacket. “I’m still just...so tired…”

And Otabek resisted the temptation to talk to the little blue light between sets of passing footsteps and voices echoing in the corridor. 

That evening at half past six, a carriage arrived for Otabek. He pretended not to notice the little red and blue lights sitting on the brim of Leo’s hat as they rode to the Mariinsky Theatre. 

✶

Yuri had every intention of telling Otabek what Lilia said to him. But far stranger things than Yuri could have expected would come to pass before he would get the chance to.

Lilia’s expression was severe, and cold. Yuri could tell she was both angry and afraid, but as for which emotion was stronger, he didn’t know.

“Yuri! What has happened to you?” Her voice was a dry whisper. She examined his hands, his wings, his hair. Then her gaze fell on his chest.

Yuri sighed, then felt his anger return. “If I knew for certain, I would be doing something about it!”

“Don’t talk back to me,” Lilia said. 

“Well, what _ has _ happened to me? What can you see?” Yuri turned his palms up.

“Yuri...whatever that horrid warlock did to you is nothing compared to what has happened to your heart.”

“What do you mean?” 

She squinted her eyes and grimaced, then finally spoke again. “I have never seen an elemental with such a human-looking heart.”

“And what of it? What does that mean?”

“Yuri…” Lilia sighed deeply. “There are different forces in the world that are meant to be held by different classes of beings. You know this. Try to hold something that does not belong to you, and…” she gazed up at the sky, “it can burn you. Burn you up from the inside out.” She gave him a solemn look. “Once you have gotten rid of that warlock’s curse, you must get rid of this as well.”

Perhaps Lilia was right about burning, Yuri thought. He felt his own anger more strongly than ever. “But this didn’t start happening to me until I went to the temple,” Yuri said. “I was called back for another visit, and that was when my heart started feeling like this.”

“You did what?” Lilia’s eyes widened. “This happened to you in the temple of your element? Yuri…” she hissed his name. “I am not one to argue with the gods,” she scowled, “but I will warn you. If you allow your heart to stay like this, it is going to cause you nothing but pain.”

Yuri felt his whole being go rigid with defiance. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long update this time! I'm afraid this story is starting to drag and get repetitive, but things are going to take a real turn in the next couple of chapters. In reality I'm not nearly as anti-alcohol as this story is getting.

“Oh my,” Guang Hong said, looking up at the great pistachio-green building that glowed in the gold light of the street lamps. “It looks like a cake!”

Yuri crossed his arms, unimpressed. Sure, it was fancy, but it had nothing on a perfectly good mushroom circle, he thought. Though if Otabek were excited about it, Yuri was certain he’d temper his dismissal. Yuri looked at the crowds of people gathered around the entrances to the opulent theatre. Otabek and Leo entered through a side door that led to a salon where the Countess and the General were waiting. 

The men looked to Yuri like stiff, waddling penguins in their dark suits; he’d encountered the funny foreign birds in the temple corridors. The women all seemed to be silently suffocating in their corsets and profusions of skirts. Otabek looked stoic and refined in his own suit, but Yuri much preferred him in his fantastical warrior’s getup, or in nothing at all. Yuri studied the way the cut of the suit accented his shoulders and his waist, revealing the sportsman that he was. But Yuri didn’t like this rigid, calculated side of Otabek. He was so much better in his rolled-up shirt sleeves with a pencil behind his ear, flitting from one stack of sketches to the next, uninhibited, like a hummingbird. 

“They have such a bizarre and ridiculous way of dressing,” Yuri said. “Why do they insist on keeping everything so separate between women and men? In nature it isn’t like that at all.”

“I don’t know,” Guang Hong said. When Leo removed his hat, the two elementals drifted down and perched on his shoulder. “In my home country it was the same way. The children were dressed the same, but the adults, well, you would have thought they were two different species at times. I don’t fully understand it myself.”

Yuri tried to imagine himself in his human form, standing among the crowd. He wondered what the people would have thought of what he wore. Would he have looked to them like a beggar or a prince? Then he found it strange that such a thought had even come to him at all. He’d never had had any interest before in blending in among humans; the thought of trying to ingratiate himself to them made his astral head hurt. A creeping urgency was overcoming Yuri; a need to make humans make sense fast. If he was going to stay with one, he’d have to find a way to make it work. To not just prove Kerebos wrong, but Lilia, too. Nonetheless, he felt a touch of relief at seeing the shining General, who jingled as he walked, accompanied by the historian who wore a sweeping collection of long, layered, embroidered robes like the ones in the book of prints he’d given to Otabek. 

“So I guess you are allowed to be ornamental if you are very important, female, or both?” Yuri asked.

Guang Hong laughed. “It seems that way.” He looked thoughtful. “Ah, I don’t usually come with Leo to things like this,” he said. “It makes me miss the old days.”

Yuri realized that of all the elementals, the hearth salamanders and the garden gnomes had the closest relationships to humans. Yuri felt a pang of frustration. If Guang Hong could endure being separated from a family he’d loved for years, that his own family had served for generations, surely Yuri could manage a night or two apart from Otabek from time to time, couldn’t he? But Lilia’s words hung over him like a dark cloud.

The Countess had claimed Michele as her companion for the evening; she beamed as usual, and appeared to glide along the floor, while Michele looked as stiff and awkward as ever, as though he was wincing, cowering from some invisible, unknown threat. 

Sara hurried over to Otabek and took his arm; she wore a sky blue dress with a lilac sash, the color of her diplomatic order. Yuri cringed with envy, silently cursing Sara for having the good fortune of possessing a physical body. Otabek’s face softened into a smile as she approached; he was so friendly and gentle with her, Yuri thought. The chatter in the room was all in French, and although Yuri couldn’t fully parse out exactly what Otabek was saying, the warmth to his voice drove the bolt of worry deeper into Yuri’s gut. Humans were known to do things out of decorum and obligation...like marry... 

_This is crazy_ , Yuri thought. _Now I’m just scaring myself._ _Sara plays her part because she has to. So does Otabek. Sara is in love with someone else, and Otabek…_

_ He loves me, doesn’t he? _

_ But I’m still just a dream. These people are real to him. _

Yuri looked around the room again; few of the men wore their hair long, hardly any of them wore jewelry beyond military medals and wedding rings, and nearly all of them were paired up with ladies. Most of them, he’d suspected, made their careers out of killing people or sitting idly while other people worked their land.

_ I don’t belong in this world. How could I even pretend to belong in it? _

Guang Hong heaved a long sigh as butlers began pouring glasses of champagne and serving them to the Countess’s entourage. 

“Can’t they go a single night without soaking themselves in this stuff?” Yuri tugged on the ends of his hair. 

“I suppose I’ve got my work cut out for me again,” Guang Hong said. “Well, at least you can help me this time. You need both fire and water magic to temper alcohol.”

“You’re such an optimist,” Yuri said. 

Guang Hong simply shrugged. “It’s my nature, I guess. I do come from the sun.”

Yuri watched the procession move slowly through an elaborate corridor lined with mirrors and crystal sconces. “Gold on everything,” he said, looking at a curly, leafy volute in the molding on the wall. “And yet I still feel like the metal would be so much happier still sleeping peacefully in the earth.”

Guang Hong laughed. “Well it’s not like it’s lead for cannon shot, Yuri! You don’t think it’s happy here where it can be admired?”

“I guess. I suppose it’s pretty, but I mean, have you ever seen the sun coming up through a dewdrop?” Yuri held up his hands. “I’m just saying.”

“You seem awfully determined not to enjoy yourself tonight, Yuri. What’s the matter with you?” Guang Hong asked.

Yuri sighed. “I’m not so sure this human society is for me.” He felt himself split in two. On the one hand, he was glad to have Guang Hong around; on the other, Yuri resented bitterly that he couldn’t simply take up residence in Otabek’s fireplace and be happy. “So many rules...and not even like the rules of nature, either. Arbitrary, made-up rules that have no meaning. What is it all for? I mean, how much happier do you think the General there would be if he could walk arm-in-arm with his lover who he’s obviously infatuated with instead of that woman he’s with now?” Anya’s deep purple gown swept the floor as she walked with her arm linked through Viktor’s; her neck glittered with jewels gifted from Mila. “What if I were to click my fingers and appear human? What do you think these people would think of me? What would they say if I tried to take Otabek’s arm?”

Guang Hong just blinked. “This is all quite upsetting to you, isn’t it?”

_ Endlessly _ , Yuri thought.  _ The thing I want the most dwells in a place where I can’t exist. _ He looked at Otabek’s reflection in one of the tall mirrors. Then, to his surprise, he saw Sara looking at him and Guang Hong. “Hey, wait a second...do you think Sara can see us?” Yuri asked.

“Oh! I’m not sure.” Guang Hong rose up a few inches into the air, and Yuri saw Sara’s reflected gaze follow him discreetly. 

“Now I think she definitely can,” Yuri said.

“Is...is it going to be a problem?” Guang Hong asked.

“Well, she’s a friend of Otabek’s, so I don’t think so...but...I have a feeling that she and Anya are ones to watch out for.”

Sara’s attention was quickly snatched away as the group burst into laughter at a quip made by the Countess.

“Why Anya?” Guang Hong asked.

And Yuri explained his encounters with the witch.

❅

Otabek strode confidently past the seat Michele was expecting him to take, placing Sara and Mila next to each other in the box overlooking the stage. In the low light, only the elementals could see the two women’s hands entwined. And only the two of them could sense the great, concentrated effort from the salamanders in the lamps along the edges of the stage. Nowhere else in the theater could Yuri sense the presence of any other elementals.  _ Maybe I’m right and there is something different about you, Beka, _ Yuri thought.  _ In this whole massive crowd, and among all the people we’ve passed by in the city, I haven’t yet seen anyone else but you and Leo with a spirit of nature following them. And so few people can see us... _

Yuri leaned against Otabek’s neck as he watched the performance. He wanted so badly to click his fingers and sit on Otabek’s lap, but the thought of being noticed by Sara or Anya made him uneasy. At first, Yuri found the ballet completely absurd: wire-thin women hopping around on their toes, hoisted about by alarmingly muscular men. Then it irked him to realize that their movements were not completely different from what he himself liked to do on the surface of his lake. 

“You’ve got to be joking,” Yuri whispered to Guang Hong as he looked down at the dancers in their shimmering, colorful costumes. “Those are supposed to be fairies? Do they really think that’s what we look like?”

Guang Hong chuckled. “Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh, Yuri? You’ve met elementals who look like that, haven’t you? Some of the flower fairies, maybe? Besides, most of these people have never seen a fairy. If you’d only ever heard of fairies, and simply had to guess, well, don’t you think the result isn’t half bad?”

Yuri scowled, reluctant to concede Guang Hong’s point. Yuri had two unavoidable problems. The first was that he could see music, and the astral color produced by the orchestra had the effect of dozens of sunsets, layered over each other in ever-changing swirls. Even Yuri’s rhythmic forest had not yet produced anything exactly like it. The second was that he found the dancers themselves quite beautiful, struck by the flowing lines of their bodies. Perhaps not as captivating as a newly forming snowflake, but...

_ Oh no...Christophe said he wanted to introduce Otabek to some of the dancers…  _ Yuri watched their seemingly effortless movements and wondered what Otabek thought about these most unusual, shiny men, their acrobatic physiques gleaming in the stage lights. Yuri climbed into the folds of Otabek’s cravat to sulk. 

Yuri could name every plant, animal, and mineral in his forest, and nearly every star visible from the Earth. But he was not used to naming emotions, and counting them now simply compounded the panic he already felt. Anger. Fear. Worry. Above all else, jealousy. 

_ Lilia is wrong and I know it _ , he told himself. _ It hasn’t been only pain since I’ve been here, and it won’t be only pain after this!  _ He pictured Otabek standing in the brilliant turquoise water of his astral lake, gazing up at the sun. _ There are already...so many feelings I don’t even have names for yet. _

Yuri could feel Otabek’s pulse gently through the fabric. He seemed to be amused, enjoying himself. 

_ I have no doubt that he wants to help me _ , Yuri thought.  _ But Otabek...how long will you be content with only dreams? _

Yuri peered out tentatively and looked at the stage below. “This whole story is completely ridiculous,” he said to Guang Hong.

“Oh, I thought you were asleep,” Guang Hong said. 

“No, I’m still watching,” Yuri said. “All this love at first sight stuff makes me want to retch. I mean, who falls in love with someone they’ve never even spoken to?”

Guang Hong just blinked and said nothing. 

Yuri crossed his arms. He’d found Otabek captivating right away, but that wasn’t the same as falling in love with someone. Being curious, being interested, finding someone beautiful…

_ Well, maybe love at first sight does exist, _ Yuri thought. _ I loved this planet as soon as I landed here. I loved snow the first time I saw it. Lilia, Koyla, Dunya, and the others all took me in right away, they didn’t even know me… Parents love their children at first sight… _

_ What am I doing wrong? _

❆

Yuri’s salvation came unexpectedly: when he emerged from Otabek’s cravat, he was surprised to see that Otabek wasn’t being whisked off backstage to meet the cast, but instead made his way with the others back out to the carriages waiting outside. Christophe, the celebrated man of the hour, graciously accepted the blizzard of compliments sent his way, but the darkness under his eyes betrayed the kind of week he’d had. Isabella, Leo’s fellow Spaniard, still insisted that they do something to celebrate. She insisted on absinthe, at a newly opened bar owned by a French couple who Jean-Jacques had known before coming to Russia. Christophe raised an eyebrow. 

“Trust me, you will absolutely love this place!” She swatted at him playfully with her lace fan. 

“What’s absinthe?” Yuri asked Guang Hong.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never heard of it.”

Yuri felt black astral smoke seeping into the carriage long before Otabek set foot in the decadent bar. “My god, what is this place they’re going to?” 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Guang Hong whispered. He whisked a tiny black vine away from the hem of his cloak. 

The carriage door opened and Yuri saw green and gold stained glass windows pouring their light onto the street, beneath a gilded hanging sign with a green fairy painted on it. Dreamy swirling motifs of plants bordered every wall and corner, and the salon was filled with plush green velvet couches and long tables in polished black wood. The Countess fawned over the lavish decorations, and her friends followed suit, with the exception of Anya. She kept a polite smile, but it was clear to Yuri that she saw it too: hanging over the room were thick ropes of black astral vines, more than any Yuri had ever seen. They crept about the ceiling and slowly draped themselves around the furniture and the patrons.

Yuri was deeply confused. This was no run-down village tavern, and yet there was a forest of dense leaves and heavy smoke engulfing the space above the patrons' heads.

“Something is clearly not right here,” Guang Hong whispered. 

Yuri wasn’t sure that this was any better than watching Otabek get introduced to Christophe’s dancers. Servers at either end of the Countess’s long table poured thin streams of water from crystal fountains over sugar cubes that lay in slotted silver spoons that were balanced on the rims of cups filled with an eerie green liquid. 

“It looks like poison,” Guang Hong said. “Not even tea should be  _ that _ color green.” 

“Oh, great. How am I going to pull Otabek out of this muck? So much for dreamwalking tonight. It’s going to be all I can do to keep Otabek from being sucked into some green hell.”

Guang Hong closed his eyes and listened; he understood French much more clearly than Yuri did, from his years with Leo. “Oh dear...they’re saying it’s supposed to make you see things! Have hallucinations and all kinds of strange dreams--”

“Wait, really? No, no, no, that can’t be right,” Yuri said, wishing in spite of himself that Lilia were there to offer some counsel. “If anything it should just take them deeper into their own minds. If you want to see astral realms and astral beings, you have to do things that make you more clear headed, not foggy and dull.” Yuri clenched his fists. “But maybe if Otabek can see me more easily, he won’t drink as much as that rotten stuff!”

Yuri hovered over the table and clicked his fingers. He stretched out luxuriously as he’d seen the Countess’s cat do before, and then lay on his side in front of Otabek with his chin propped up on his palm. Otabek flinched; he could sense that something was different, and could just barely perceive the contour of Yuri’s spectre. But it was Sara whose eyes widened suddenly and who jerked back in her chair. There was a peal of laughter, but not from Sara or Anya.

“Sara, my darling, what’s happened to you? Are you seeing the green fairy already?” Mila asked coyly.

Sara wore an embarrassed smile. “I’m fine,” she said. Otabek gave her a concerned look, but she just waved her hand and took another sip of her drink. 

Yuri expected Anya to glare at him, but instead she was looking at a compact mirror, pretending to check her much heavier than usual makeup. She let her eyes unfocus a tiny bit here and there. Yuri realized she was scrying, and it made him extremely nervous. He sat up in the center of the table. “Guang Hong, something’s coming,” he said.

The little flame looked dimmer than usual. “I can already see it,” he said. 

In the corner of the room behind Anya, a figure was emerging out of the vines. It walked slowly toward the table; Anya eyed it in her mirror, but Sara couldn’t yet see it walking up behind her. Yuri stood up on the table and stretched his wings out as if facing down an angry bear. As the vines parted and the leaves fell away, a creature that looked like a deathly thin young woman with green skin strode toward him. Her hair was matted vines, and the leaves made for her a scant dress. She looked at Yuri with curious amusement, but he tried to hold his expression still so as not to betray his fear. Even if astral beings could only do astral damage, it could sometimes be enough to send a human’s life spiraling out of control, into despair, confusion, madness. 

“What a surprise,” the woman said, her voice raspy and thin. “I never see any of our kind here.”

“Our kind?” Yuri scowled at her, his hands on his hips. “What are you talking about? What are you, anyway?” He watched great clouds of the smoke unfurl about her; he couldn’t understand whether she was made of it, or simply commanded it. The room was filled with drunken laughter, yet it felt cold. Not the elegant, structured cold of ice, but a cold of emptiness, like space.

The figure folded her long, frail fingers together. “Why I’m an elemental, like you, of course.” She tilted her head, and Yuri saw that it tilted too far, perpendicular to the floor. In that moment he had one intention: this creature was not going to get anywhere near Otabek. 

Yuri scoffed. “An elemental? Really?” He leered forward. “Of what element?”

“Darkness,” she said. Her smile revealed a mouth of black teeth. 

Yuri spotted Anya moving her little finger about on the corner of the table, as though she were flirtatiously listening to her companions. But Yuri recognized quickly that she was drawing a sigil from the purple astral light it was leaving on the surface on the wood. “Guang Hong! Look at what Anya is drawing, and draw it on each corner of the table!”

The little red slight scrambled over to Anya, then tried his best to run in the same pattern he had seen. The next corner of the table started to glow. 

Yuri hovered in the air, still trying to look imposing. He looked at the vines; even astral plants still had some affinity with the element of water, and Yuri set the intention of freezing them into place.

“There’s no such thing as an elemental of darkness, you idiot,” Yuri said. The vines were gradually slowing down, no longer curling as tightly around the legs of the tables and chairs. Guang Hong had made a square of Anya’s sigils, and the smoke was repelled from the Countess’s table. “There are only minor demons, beings of filth, and ghosts,” Yuri said. “And I don’t know which of those you are, but you are clearly not an elemental.”

Guang Hong stood on Yuri’s shoulder, his palms pressed together. 

“My dear, you are mistaken,” the figure said. “Darkness is one of the most important elements there is. Wouldn’t you agree, ice fairy? Don’t you bring nature to stillness in the time of darkness when it most needs to rest?”

“The dark of winter and the sludge that you come from are two completely different things. Don’t pretend to be on the same level as me--”

“And what about you, my darling salamander?” The figure reached out her spindly hand as if expecting Guang Hong to climb into it. “Does your light not shine more beautifully in the dark?”

“Yuri, what does she want?” Guang Hong whispered. 

Yuri decided that perhaps his best course of action would be to stall the creature to keep her away from Otabek and his friends. “All right, ‘elemental of darkness’,” he said mockingly. “Tell me. What do you do?”

“I serve humans,” she said. “Just like your flame companion serves them with fire, I serve them with the dark.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Yuri said. “What good could you possibly do for them?”

“Endless good.” Another rotten smile. “Human life is so painful, don’t you agree? Don’t you believe humans need to rest from their troubles from time to time?” She looked at the party seated at the table. “Just look at how happy they are here.”

Each of them already wore a great blanket of black leaves. Otabek’s draped over his shoulders like a heavy fur coat, Sara’s wrapped about her head like an iron crown. 

“Everyone has some secret trouble they bring with them here,” the green woman said. “And I make it all go away,” she said dreamily. “The magic of darkness.” She took a long step forward and reached her fingers toward the back of Otabek’s head. 

“Don’t touch him!” Yuri screamed and jumped in front of her. Long blades of ice extended from his fingers like claws, their tips just barely reached the figure’s throat. Yuri looked at his hand; the ice had formed on its own accord, he hadn’t consciously willed it to happen. Then he glared at the green woman again. In his life he’d never had to fight another being, but he was determined to do it now if he had to, in whatever way necessary. 

“You don’t make anything better,” he hissed. “A being like you doesn’t help anyone. All you do is poison people with nightmares.”

The woman scoffed, stepping back from the sharp points. “I help people to rest,” she said. “I set them free from their worries.” The vines around her were beginning to go stiff; a few leaves drifted to the ground. 

“Guang Hong, help me!” Yuri said. “Try to evaporate the water out of the vines I can’t freeze.”

“I’m trying, Yuri!” The tiny light said.

“Can’t you click your fingers?” Yuri asked.

Guang Hong shook his head.

“Guang Hong, look, everyone here is about to be rolling-on-the-floor drunk, and they all believe they’re going to see things. If they see you, they won’t believe it! Come on!”

Guang Hong shrank back. “But the waiters--”

“No one is looking! Just--tell them you’re the historian’s attaché or something!” Yuri pointed his un-clawed hand at Katsuki, whose traditional Japanese clothing had invoked a great deal of admiration and curiosity. 

“All right, if you insist!” Suddenly the young man in the red cloak appeared next to Yuri. He raised up his hands. The vines began to fall to the floor, desiccated and dead. 

Yuri needed time, but only a few moments. There was a way of knowing the origin of something just by looking at it, not unlike scrying. Lilia and Kolya had taught him the beginning. No thinking, no trying, only seeing. The woman stepped forward but Yuri pierced her shoulders and chest with his hand.

“You don’t understand!” The green figure screamed. “I understand humans! I know what they need!”

Yuri drew four sigils in the air with his free hand as quickly as he could, and a glassy plane appeared. “Of course you would believe that,” he said derisively. “Given that you used to be one.” This time, Yuri could see the spectre’s qualities clearly. The reflection in the plane showed a thin, pale woman with dark hair in a worn out, dust blue dress. 

The figure shook her head, sending bits of leaves flying out of her hair. “Nonsense,” she said.

“You have no silver thread,” Yuri said, encasing the remaining vines in ice, pressing his adversary back with his claws. “So you must just be adrift. You aren’t powerful enough to be a demon. So you must be a ghost.”

“What are you talking about?” The figure recoiled. But as she spoke, the green of her skin turned paler. Yuri saw that it was fading.

“You use the vines to keep yourself here, don’t you? Since you have no thread.” Yuri said. He lowered his hand, and the spears of ice retreated. “You have no body. It’s gone, isn’t it?”

The woman backed into the corner. Yuri stepped closer. He looked at her straight in the face as Guang Hong continued to clear the space around them. 

“This is where you died, isn’t it?” Yuri asked. She looked at him with a terrified expression. Her teeth had started fading back to white. “Do you remember anything about who you were?” Her silent panic remained. “Or is drinking all you can remember?”

The woman trembled as if she were dying again. Yuri felt his rage start to warp into something else. Curiosity, pity. “Is that how you died?” Yuri looked around, wondering what the place had been before it became the decadent bar. Perhaps someone’s home. 

“I wanted to sleep forever,” the woman whispered. By now she looked as she had at her time of death. She had not been old, but she looked exhausted, emaciated. Her spectre was gradually becoming more transparent. 

Yuri glanced over his shoulder, at Otabek at the table. A flash of inspiration struck him. He dissolved the mirror hovering next to them. He drew three more sigils in the air, then, with his other hand, he conjured the shape of a tree made out of ice. He looked at the ghost again.

“If you could go anywhere, where would you most want to go?” Yuri asked.

“I have to stay here,” the ghost whispered.

“You can’t stay here,” Yuri said. Guang Hong clicked his fingers and hovered above Yuri’s shoulder. “You don’t belong here.”

“Then I wish to be nowhere. Part of nothingness.”

Yuri sighed. “You can’t do that, either.” 

“Then what am I supposed to do?” the ghost cried.

Yuri scowled. “Asking _ you _ is useless,” he said. “Try to remember who you used to be! What did  _ she _ want? Where would she go?”

Black tears began to spill from the ghost’s eyes, just like they had from Otabek’s when Yuri first tried to remove the influence of the black smoke from him. 

_ Shit, _ Yuri thought.  _ Where do lost pieces of human souls go? I don’t know where to take her. _ He’d conjured the tree to help himself, but this was beyond what he knew to do. He pointed at the tree made of ice. “Ask it to help you. Ask it to send you a guide.” The ghost looked confused, her eyes still draining. “Do you want my help or not?” Yuri turned his palms up in frustration.

“All right then,” the ghost whispered. “Send me a guide.”

A tiny moth fluttered out from within the shining branches of the tree. She hovered in the air, and with a gentle click, a tall, beautiful old woman in a long gray cape appeared. Her white hair was tied in a tight knot at the top of her head, and ancient white symbols that looked like they were written in smoke covered her clothing. “Yuratchka, your magic has progressed so fast! Lilia and Kolya will be so pleased to hear about this.” Yuri winced as she kissed him on top of the head. 

“Dunya…” he growled. She looked around the room and smiled at the withered vines. She curtsied to Guang Hong, then to the ghost.

“You know where to take her?” Yuri asked. 

Dunya smiled and pointed a finger at the sky. “The Tree knows all.” She turned to the ghost. “And what is your name, my dear?” She took the fragile woman’s hands.

“I don’t remember,” the ghost said. 

“Yes you do,” Dunya said. She winked at Yuri. “Come, walk with me,” she said to the ghost. “Let’s talk for a bit, shall we? And you can tell me what you remember.” She turned to Yuri. “Are you going to keep us waiting, or are you going to open the portal?”

“What? Yes,” Yuri said.  _ Oh for heaven’s sake, Lilia henpecking me is enough.  _ He drew the last sigil, and the rippling sheet of light appeared.

“Brilliant,” Dunya said. She patted him on the head as if he were a little boy. Yuri grimaced. 

“Well?” Dunya turned to the ghost. “Aren’t you going to thank him?”

“I don’t understand,” she whispered.

“For freeing you from this place,” Dunya said. “Oh, being stuck is a dreadful thing. One spirals and spirals, and never gets anywhere.” She stroked the ghost’s hair as if she were her own granddaughter. “It’s all right,” she said. “One day, when you are ready, you can thank him properly.”

The acknowledgment from Dunya was enough. Yuri had no desire to see the dead woman again. He watched the two step through the gleaming portal. It vanished behind them. All around them, the heaviest of the vines began to crumble into dust, and slowly disappeared. Soon, all that was left was the typical astral haze, and Yuri saw that Otabek and the others were no more soaked in it than they would have been anywhere else. He breathed a huge sigh of relief. If all Otabek could do was sleep that night, then Yuri would simply ask the Tree himself for answers, demand another guide of his own, or search the temple. 

“Yuri, that was amazing,” Guang Hong said. Yuri snapped his fingers and joined Guang Hong on Otabek’s shoulder, one of the few people at the table still sitting relatively calmly rather than rollicking about. “After the battle that killed the family I served, there were ghosts everywhere,” Guang Hong said. “But they all looked like soldiers, or ordinary people. There were none so gruesome as that. Even still, I thought it was terrible. I couldn’t stand to see how they roamed about, wandering. Most of them didn’t seem to understand they were dead.”

Yuri flopped down on his back. “After all this magic, I need a break. I feel like a squished fly.” 

“Do you think you’ll try to stay near your body tonight?” Guang Hong asked.

Yuri groaned. “What? No, of course not! I have work to do!”

✾

When Otabek rose out of his body, he was in an unfamiliar room. Sara twisted Michele’s arm and demanded that as many people stay over at their apartment as they could host, saying it was her duty as a diplomat. Otabek was sure he knew her true motives. But he felt so tired and delirious that he accepted the offer; the shorter the carriage ride the better. 

He looked at his astral body. He tried to peel off a leaf sticking to his arm, but found it stung unbearably. There must have been something magic in Yuri’s touch, he thought, wincing. And where was Yuri? Otabek wondered if he’d have to make the same request of the Tree as he had the night before to find him. He felt a searing pain in his back. His bright metal wings were still there, and with great effort he released them, slicing through a thick layer of leaves. He immediately felt uplifted, the levity of the wings pulled hard against the leaves’ heaviness. 

He heard voices in the corridor.

“For the last time, what are you?” Anya sneered.

“I told you! I’m an ice fairy! How is that not completely obvious to you?” 

“I know every elemental that lives near the Countess’s estate! But you, I’ve never seen before.”

Yuri’s voice burned with stress. “That’s because I guard the lake, you imbecile! I have no business with humans--”

“Precisely!” Anya said with a nasty sharpness. “And it will be me who keeps you away from them! Kerebos has a vile imagination, I have no doubt he conjured up some pretty youth to use as his spy. Your energy is covered in his symbols.”

“Forty hells! If Kerebos is such a fearsome wizard, wouldn’t he have the skill to conceal his own magic? What do I have to do to prove this you? Didn’t you see me in your mirror? I did all that magic to keep that horrible ghost away from you!”

Otabek stepped through the door, into the corridor lined with suits of armor and hanging tapestries, exemplars of Italian craftsmanship. Guang Hong stood off to the side, afraid to intervene.

“Anya,” Otabek said, “please don’t harass my friends; whatever they were doing, I assure you they were only trying to help.”

The others turned and stared at Otabek. Anya covered her mouth with her fingertips.

“What’s the matter?” Otabek was suddenly embarrassed, and didn’t know why.

“Beka, your wings!” Yuri ran up to him and stroked the long, gold feathers. “These are incredible,” he said, walking around Otabek and admiring, plucking off a leaf and here and there. “Beka, where did you get them? What happened to you?”

Otabek was sure that no one in his life had ever looked at him with so much enthusiasm. “I tried to tell you this morning, Yuri. I went to Berezhevoye last night, I was looking for you.”

Yuri screwed up his face. “You did what? Beka, you weren’t supposed to travel--”

“I know, but...I asked for a guide and the Tree sent me one,” Otabek said. “She gave them to me.”

Yuri looked at him and drew back. 

“It was a little moth…”

“Oh my god,” Yuri said. “That is just like her.” He planted his face in his hand. “Beka, Dunya isn’t a moth. She’s a sylph. An air elemental. Everything that flies, she takes care of. She’s constantly reincarnating herself as all kinds of moths…” Yuri sighed, then looked back up.

Anya scoffed, her hands on her hips. “And when were you going to tell me you were a warlock all this time?” she said to Otabek.

He held his hands up. “I’m not one, I promise--”

“Well you clearly are a traveler of some kind! Just look at you!” she opened her hands, gesturing toward him. He didn’t understand what she meant by ‘traveler.’ All he could think of was that he came from a long line of nomads.

“You don’t just  _ give _ someone wings, Otabek,” Anya said. “You have to be the sort of being that can bear them.” She crossed her arms and looked thoughtful. “Well. I suppose it does take a while to remember these sorts of things. You’ll remember soon enough,” she said. “As for you…” she looked at Yuri.

“Anya, just drop it,” Otabek said, tense with his own irritation. He reached for Yuri’s hand. “If he intended to hurt me, he would have done it by now.”

“No,” she said, “he’d probably work to gain your trust before he betrayed you. Believe me, Otabek. I know how witches think.”

“For the last time!” Yuri shouted. “I’m not a witch and I wasn’t created by one!” 

“Anya, look, if you really want to help me, then let me sort this out on my own,” Otabek said. 

“Suit yourself, traveler,” she said. “I’ll leave you to your elementals. But I’ll leave you with one final warning. Kerebos is a master of illusions.”

“What’s going on here?” A timid voice came from the other end of the hall. Sara walked out slowly, in a long purple dress covered in a heavy lace of black leaves.

“Oh no,” Anya whispered. “Why is she outside of her body?”

“You were at the bar!” She pointed at Yuri. “And you!” She turned to Guang Hong. “And Otabek, my dear, why are you dressed like that?” He wore his rider’s clothes with his tall boots and open vest. 

Otabek reached out to her and she took his hand. “It’s just a dream, Sara. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

She stood up a bit straighter. “I’m dreaming?” She looked around. 

“Get her out of here,” Anya said under her breath. 

“No way!” Yuri whispered. “She’s in no condition to travel!”

“She can’t stay here! This place is an absolute mess from the filth in that bar! It’s going to take me all night to clear it, and that’s if I can get the salamander to help me!” Anya said.

“It’s all right, I’ll help you,” Guang Hong said. “Please, don’t cause such a fuss--”

“She’s not getting through any portal like that,” Yuri said. 

“Hey, ‘ice fairy,’” Anya said. “Call on one of your guides and get her somewhere safe. And if anything happens to her at all, if she’s even the slightest bit addled or out of sorts in the morning, I’ll know that you belong to Kerebos.” She wore a wicked smile.

Yuri began to lunge toward her, but Otabek caught him by the shoulder. “Anya, Sara will be fine, we’ll be sure of it.” He shut his eyes and began to feel his spine.

“No, he has to do it!” Anya pointed at Yuri. “Prove to me that the Tree listens to a being like you.”

“Fine,” Yuri said. He saw that the suit of armor next to him held a long glaive with a wooden staff. He reached out and touched the wood, invoking the Tree. “Send me a guide on behalf of Sara.”

There was a flutter of wings in the space around them, and Yuri’s face peeled into a smile. Otabek expected the great, gorgeous pegasus that had carried him and Yuri. He heard hoof beats behind him. Then, he turned around and saw Sara affectionately petting the nose of the blue parrot-winged pegasus. Yuri looked livid. 

“Well, here I was expecting moths,” Anya said. “Fairy, if you harm a hair on her head, I’ll send you back to the pit of hell Kerebos conjured you from.”

“Anya, that’s enough!” Otabek said. 

“Come salamander,” Anya said. “Help me and I’ll light the fireplace in Leo’s room for you to rest in. You’re always tagging along with him.” Guang Hong took a deep bow and hurried over to stand across from her at the end of the hall. 

“How come you believe him and not me?!” Yuri yelled.

“He doesn’t reek of Kerebos,” she said. 

“This is a waste of time, Yuri,” Otabek said. “Let’s go.” Sara was completely charmed by the blue horse, still a bit delusional. She stood on Otabek’s knee to climb up on his back, and Otabek took Yuri’s hand again. 

Yuri drew four sigils. “Sara,” he said softly, and Otabek realized how deceptively innocent-looking and childlike he could be when he wanted to, “if you could see anything at all tonight, what would you most want to see?”

She suddenly looked more sober. A few leaves fell off her gown. “Anything?”

䷪

When Yuri stepped out of the portal, he found himself with Otabek on a hill of grayish grass against a yellow sky. A stone fortress stood farther up the hill. Otabek was covered in heavy armor, a dense shirt of chainmaille layered over with gold scales like a dragon’s. Yuri himself was covered with a light, silvery metal, etched through with a diamond pattern and small star-like stones at each crossing. He’d never needed armor before. He felt suddenly afraid.

“I’ve been here before,” Otabek said. 

“You have? What is this place?” Yuri turned around and saw Sara riding up behind them. She too was covered in armor, although her hair hung loose around her. She wore an ornately engraved pale purple metal unlike any that existed on Earth. Then Yuri noticed something curious. Of the three of them, Sara was the only one who had a sword. 

She no longer looked sleepy and frightened. She jumped down from the pegasus’ back and looked up at the dark building. The likeness of Michele’s face was so enormous that it could be seen clearly from some distance. Sara sighed heavily and knelt down on the ground. “I’ve been looking for this place for a long time,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t completely sure it existed, I didn’t have a way to find it.” She wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of one of her gleaming gauntlets. “So much of the time, when I travel at night, I’m trying to find it,” she said. “But I never do, so I never remember anything of what I see.” She took a deep breath, and began walking toward the fortress. The others walked with her.

“Sara, are you sure you want to see this?” Otabek said.

“I’ve waited long enough,” Sara said with an air of grim resolution. 

“This place is horrible,” Yuri said. “Just looking at the sky makes me nauseated. I don’t understand why the Tree brought all of us here if this place belongs to your brother.”

Sara stopped for a moment and looked at the ground. She shook her head and kept walking. “I know why,” she said. “It’s because I didn’t want to come here by myself.” She took a few more paces, her eyes still wet. “Just because I wanted to see it doesn’t mean I’m not also afraid of it.” 

Yuri felt his chest contract at her words. At the far edge of his astral forest were realms he had no desire to visit. Not on his own, at least.

The sound of hissing grew louder as they drew nearer. Dozens of pairs of yellow eyes looked at them from the writhing black mass that filled the moat. Yuri recoiled at the sight of the wyverns, and Otabek stretched out an arm protectively. The serpentine creatures uncoiled themselves slowly and gathered around Sara, examining her from every angle, forked tongues flicking. Otabek took a step forward, and one flew at him, jaws snapping. A warning.

“Sara, it seems you are the master in this place,” Otabek said.

Sara raised her arm slowly, and the creatures’ gazes all followed it. She lowered it gently, and the dragon-like heads followed. “It seems I am.” She turned to the others behind her, standing on the edge of the narrow bridge that led across the moat. “Will you wait for me?” she asked with a pained look on her face. 

“Of course,” Otabek said. The pegasus nodded in approval. Yuri just sighed. 

Through the winding cloud of serpents they could see Sara take off one of her gloves and lay her hand in the open mouth of the stone door. The massive door creaked open, and Sara disappeared into the complete darkness inside. 

Otabek looked at Yuri and smiled. He folded his wings down his back. “I’m surprised you agreed to stay.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “I’m not saying I want to be here, but I can’t help it...I want to find out what she sees.”

The blue pegasus knelt down and Otabek sat with his back against his long, colorful feathers. Yuri lay his head in Otabek’s lap, stretched out across the dim grass, and shut his eyes.

“I don’t know why, but I can hardly bear to look at the sky here,” Yuri says. “It makes me ill.”

“I don’t find it particularly offensive,” Otabek said. “Just strange, mostly.” He took off his heavy gloves and ran his hands through Yuri’s hair. 

“There’s plenty of other realms I’d rather be in than this,” Yuri said. “But if Sara thinks well of me, then maybe it will get that witch off my back forever. Maybe she’ll even cough up some knowledge that could help me.”

“I think her real problem is with Kerebos, not with you,” Otabek said. He drummed his fingers on Yuri’s metal chest plate. “Hm, and here I was hoping to have some time alone with you, and preferably not covered in metal.” He tilted his head back toward the pegasus. “No offense.”

Yuri opened one eye and looked up at the pegasus. “How are you even a guide, anyway?”

The horse snorted.

“Try to get along, you two,” Otabek said. “If only for Sara’s sake.” 

Yuri tried to take his attention off of his growing feeling of nausea by listening to Otabek’s story about his visit to Berezhovoye. He found it hard to believe that such a short time ago, Otabek had been wandering around the Countess’s home, drunk and lost. Now he was able to fly. And yet at the same time, it made sense to Yuri. What ordinary person would have whisked Yuri into his room on the spot, and walked with no hesitation into a portal? 

“I don’t understand you,” Yuri said. “The only times I’ve ever heard of Dunya coming to guide a human, she was helping someone cross over to the other side after death. She says that’s the only time that ordinary humans fly on their own. So she must think there’s something special about you.” He opened his eyes halfway and looked up at Otabek, grinning. 

“And what do you think?” Otabek asked.

“I know there is. I just can’t quite put my finger on it yet,” Yuri said.

Otabek smiled, but then his face took on a touch of concern. “Yuri, when we were at the bar, Sara gave us all a good laugh by saying she was seeing figures moving around the room. Both of us could see you and Guang Hong, but I didn’t say anything, since I didn’t want to scare her, or anyone else at the table, for that matter. But she also said she saw a woman with green skin--”

Yuri sat up straight. “She saw what?”

Otabek drew back a little, startled. “She said there were two women with you, one with green skin, and then one with white hair and a gray cloak--”

“The white haired one was Dunya,” Yuri said. “But Sara shouldn’t have been able to see her. Even if Anya could, that would have been extraordinary.”

“Well, perhaps Sara is just gifted in that way,” Otabek said.

Yuri squinted. “Few humans would be quick to call that a gift, Beka,” he said. “But what about you? Did you see Dunya?”

Otabek shook his head. “No. I thought I saw something, just barely. I could see a bluish light next to Guang Hong, which I believed was you. But some of it, I thought I was just making up.”   
  


Yuri told Otabek about how he’d realized the horrible figure was a ghost, and what had unfolded in the astral space around the bar.

Otabek traced the joints of Yuri’s armor with his finger, a faint smile on his face. “All that work to keep me from getting sick?” 

Yuri looked at the ground. “Don’t talk about it like it was some heroic thing,” he said. He sighed deeply. “Even if I didn’t need your help as much as I do, I still wouldn’t have wanted that thing to get near you.”

“You wouldn’t?” Otabek cracked a grin. “And why is that?”

“Because I...want you to be happy,” Yuri said. He wrapped his arms around his knees with a metallic clang. 

“I’m already happier because of you,” Otabek said, looking at the sky. 

This time, Yuri was not surprised at the pain in his chest.

Then he looked up suddenly. “What is that?” He heard a rustling noise through the grass. One of the serpents was slithering toward them. Yuri cringed and clung to Otabek, but the creature ignored them. A short distance away, it began to shed its skin, and the animal that crawled free had no wings. Its scales were green and gold, and it slinked away, unbothered. Yuri looked back toward the fortress. More of the wyverns were crawling out of the moat now, leaving behind their murky skins like awkward brushstrokes on the drab ground. Yuri noticed that the sky was turning lighter. 

The door to the fortress creaked open slowly. Sara stepped out, her armor cracked and scorched in places, her hair heavy with sweat. Her sword was gone. The huge blue pegasus beat his wings hard against the ground as he stood up. Sara ran to him, threw her arms around his neck, and sobbed.

“Sara?” Otabek walked up to her. 

After a moment, she turned to him and finally spoke. “When I was a child,” she said, nearly whispering, “my teachers told me that if I wanted to remember things,” she sniffed and wiped her face with the back of her hand, “I could create a ‘memory palace.’ I could think of a place I knew by heart, and I could assign information to each room, each corner…” another wave of sobs came over her. The pegasus stretched out his wing, and Sara cried into the feathers. “But I don’t have a place like this in the dream realms for my own memories,” she said. “I never have. Michele has been keeping all of it. Holding onto everything for both of us, so I didn’t have to.”

Sara sank to her knees on the grass, and the pegasus knelt back down next to her. 

Yuri wanted so badly to know what she saw, but was afraid to ask. Instead he just sat back down across from Sara, and Otabek joined him. 

“I was right about some things,” she said after a moment. She gazed at the ground, and a shiver passed through her body. “Someone did hurt him when we were young. A priest in our town…” She shook her head. “Michele was one of many. But he was told that if he said anything about it, to anyone…” Another wave of tears rose up. “I would be next.”

There was a long silence. Yuri found that the searing pain in his chest did not abate, it only grew stronger. He was not completely sure what compelled him to speak. “I remember a time...it was shortly after I arrived on Earth, some distance from my lake,” he said quietly, as if trying not to spook an animal. “A deer died, and its body fell into a stream. The people who lived nearby became violently ill from the water, but they couldn’t understand why. A storm covered up the carcass with limbs and leaves.” He brushed his hair out of his face with the claw-like finger of his glove. “It just makes me think...a shock could poison a person’s mind in the same way. Something far upstream in one’s memories...unknown, maybe even forgotten.”

Sara looked up at him with a soft expression. “I think you are right.” She sat back, propping herself up with her palms, and looked out at the horizon. “I don’t know what Mickey remembers in waking life. I don’t know if he ever comes here, or if he travels at all.” She sank down slightly, her face still red. “And now I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say to him, if anything at all.”

Otabek squinted at the grass, thinking. “Maybe it’s enough just to know,” he said. “Maybe you don’t need to say anything yet.”

“The sky is already turning lighter,” Yuri said. A pale wash of watercolor pink stretched itself across the horizon. 

“Now I’m afraid that I won’t remember what I saw when I wake up,” Sara said, massaging her temples. “Or if I do remember it, I won’t believe it.”

Yuri turned to Otabek. “Beka, if she doesn’t remember in the morning, ask her about this place! Tell her about the fortress, the sky, the door, details like that. That will start the flow of memories again.”

Yuri noticed the tips of a few black leaves poking out from underneath the bracers on Sara’s arms. 

“I don’t believe I’ve ever felt more tired, body and soul,” Sara said. 

“You should get back,” Yuri said. “I’m amazed the Tree let either of you travel at all.”

“I don’t know what compelled me to,” Sara said. “I never have dreams after drinking anything.” Otabek helped her back onto the pegasus’s back. “I suppose some part of me just thought the time was right.”

Otabek patted the pegasus’s flank. “Safe travels, my friends,” he said. There was a clang of metal as he put his arm around Yuri’s shoulders. Even the wandering snakes stopped what they were doing to watch Sara fly away.

“Well?” Yuri said after a long pause. “Are you going to let me cure you or not? You’ve still got all those leaves on you somewhere. If I can’t get rid of them, you won’t remember much of anything when you wake up.” He began drawing the sigils.

“Let’s be done with this place,” Otabek said. “Besides, you don’t need an excuse to get me out of this,” he looked down at the shining chainmaille and smirked. “Even if I do look good in it.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. Otabek took his face in his hands, kissed him, and followed him through the portal.

❂

A warm breeze swept over Otabek, and he shut his eyes serenely. Light glittered on the surface of his turquoise lake. His heavy armor was gone, only the last of the black leaves covered his skin. 

“I hoped I’d get to come back here tonight,” Otabek said. He felt immediately and easily at home. 

Yuri took Otabek’s hand and examined the delicate engraving in his palm. In this space, it glowed faintly white. “Beka, you should try something,” Yuri said. “Fold your wings down. See if they stay with you, like mine do.”

“I’m not sure how to do that,” Otabek said.

“Just allow it to happen,” Yuri said. “They know how to do it on their own.”

Otabek relaxed his wings, and they vanished. Yuri stood behind him and gasped. 

“What is it?” Otabek looked over his shoulder and saw a pattern of feathers glowing very subtly on the surface of his skin.

“They’re really yours,” Yuri whispered. 

Otabek turned around and reached for Yuri. “What do you mean?”

“They won’t leave you,” Yuri said. “They’re a part of you, like you were born with them.”

Otabek saw that Yuri had tears in his eyes.

“Beka, I don’t think Dunya gave you wings,” Yuri said. He draped his arms over Otabek’s shoulders and traced the pattern with his fingertips. “I think she simply found them.”

“Well then I’m glad to have them back,” Otabek said. He pulled Yuri close to him.

Yuri let out a long sigh. “Get in the water,” he said.

Otabek obeyed. He stretched his arms out and floated on his back. “All right, have your way with me,” he said.

Yuri splashed water on him, and Otabek laughed and flung it out of his face.

“Hold still,” Yuri said. “Let the water do its magic.”

Otabek turned his head to the side and watched Yuri. He sat cross-legged, hovering over the surface of the water, his eyes closed, in deep concentration as Otabek had seen him in the strange temple. 

“I’m relieved the Tree didn’t choose to make me a centaur again this time,” Otabek said, feeling a twitch in his groin from the sight of Yuri without clothes. 

“Shh,” Yuri said.

Otabek felt the sticky material dissolving off of him. Lying on the warm, tranquil water, he felt as he did before he was born, in a state of total security and bliss. A feeling of fullness, like anything could happen. 

“I really must stop making you do this,” Otabek said. “You aren’t my nurse.”

“I would be if I had to be,” Yuri said. He stood next to Otabek in the water and placed his palms underneath Otabek’s back.

“In my waking life I can’t seem to say no any time someone offers me a drink,” Otabek said. 

“A small amount doesn’t hurt you, Beka,” Yuri said.

“I know, but my problem is that I can’t seem to stop.” Otabek looked at the warm but sunless sky. 

“You should go ride horses with the Countess more often,” Yuri said. “You simply can’t be drunk for that.” His catlike smile had returned. 

“Ah, that’s something I would very much like to do,” Otabek said. He stood up and ran his hands through his hair. “How I wish I could feel more like this in waking life,” he said, stretching. 

“And how is that?” Yuri walked with him back to the shore, through the warm, shallow water. 

“Supremely alive,” Otabek said. “Limitless.”

“Beka,” Yuri kicked a pebble out of the way on the wooded path, “Do you really believe it helps you to dream like this? Or do you think it makes you drift...makes you pull away from people, from your life? Lilia told me there are only two types of people who dream. The ones who become more asleep, and the ones who become more awake.”

Otabek frowned. “Of course I think it helps me,” he said. “In the past few days, I’ve had more ideas come to me for my inventions than I have in the previous year. I can barely write them down fast enough.” He reached for Yuri’s hand. “But I’ll confess, I like to escape my life from time to time. You’ve seen what my life is like, Yuri. The people around me fret endlessly about nothing, unless there’s a war, and then we fret endlessly about how to kill as many people as possible.” He sighed. “If I didn’t have some inspiration, at times I think I would be as good as dead.”

Yuri nodded. “Keep traveling, then,” he said, looking down the path that led to the small cabin. “Keep dreaming. More will come to you. Memories. Ideas. Inspiration…” He looked up through the canopy of trees above them, and muttered to himself. “Maybe you’ll become so good at bringing things down from the dream realms, you can bring me, too.”

Otabek stopped walking and lay his hands on Yuri’s shoulders. “Do you think I haven’t wished to learn some secret here that would help you? Even if it meant I would become just like Anya, a warlock?”

“I’m sorry,” Yuri said, drawing back. “I know you have.” He hung his head. “It’s just..” his hands were fists, “it’s just maddening to me to have to sit through something like that strange ballet, and have no body of my own to compete--”

“Is that what this is about? The dancers?” Otabek tilted his head. “Yuri, those people are strangers on a stage,” Otabek said.

“Yes, but they're real,” Yuri said. 

Otabek stepped closer and grabbed Yuri’s waist. He wore a pained look. “How can you stand here in front of me like this and claim to not be real?”

Yuri placed his palms on Otabek’s chest. “You say that here, where you can see me perfectly.” He touched Otabek’s lower lip with his thumb.

Otabek shut his eyes and laughed. “See you perfectly? Yuri, in my typical life, no one sees me perfectly. I play the role of a Tsarist hack to earn my salt and I indulge my friends’ petty gossip so that I don’t spend all my time alone. The person they see might as well be a dream.” He shook his head, and looked Yuri straight in the face. “You are the only person who has ever ‘seen me perfectly.’”

Yuri blinked slowly a few times. Otabek pushed him forward, against the trunk of a nearby tree, and kissed him. “You seem perfectly real to me,” he whispered. He felt a flush of heat through his body. He began to kneel down and kiss Yuri’s chest, his abdomen, the inside of his thigh. He gave the tip of Yuri’s erection a long stroke with his tongue, and began teasing him with his fingers. Yuri winced at the touch. He gasped as Otabek took him into his mouth. 

“Why don’t you try to convince me,” Otabek said as he drew back, “how ‘not real’ you are?” He continued slowly working into Yuri with his hand, kissing and licking him until he felt Yuri’s legs began to tremble. “Somehow, I don’t think I’m making you up.“ He stood up and guided Yuri to wrap his legs around his waist and his arms around his shoulders. He kissed Yuri’s neck. “You are remarkably heavy for a being who can levitate, you know that?”

Yuri gave him a sly look. “Oh no, I can’t do that now, can I? That would be too fanciful and dreamlike, wouldn’t it?” He kissed Otabek and let the gravity of the space pull him down. He tilted his head back and inhaled sharply. 

Otabek hoisted Yuri up a little higher, then let him sink back down again as he pushed harder into Yuri’s body. He gave Yuri’s ear a playful bite. “Do you want to know what the biggest difference is between this place and my waking life?” Yuri just moaned, gripping Otabek’s shoulders. “Here, when I want things,” he grazed Yuri’s cheek with his lips, “I get to have them.”

Yuri gripped the back of Otabek’s neck and kissed him.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri keeps more secrets than Otabek realizes. Otabek's forest has more to show both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short update this time...I hate that it's been so long since I updated! I hope I can get at least another chapter or two in before Christmas!

Otabek’s vision was fuzzy for a moment as he lay in the tall, soft grass with Yuri. Warm light filtered through the branches of the trees above them, but Otabek could still discern no sun, no direction that the light was coming from. He lay on his side, with his arm draped over Yuri’s chest, which rose and fell slowly. 

_ There must be a way to be as awake in my earthly life as I am here.  _

He studied the angles of Yuri’s face, his marble-like skin.  _ I was so sure I’d never have the courage to speak to anyone like him, _ Otabek thought.  _ But I have.  _ Otabek looked over his shoulder, at what he could see of the feathery pattern etched on his back.  _ This is the real me. More so than that poor sleepwalker living in Saint Petersburg.  _

_ But there’s still so much about my own self I have to remember! Or maybe discover for the first time... _

He ran his thumb along Yuri’s collarbone.  _ Yuri...If you hadn’t shown up in my waking world, I would have thought, well, this is it...this is your charge...just to be a kind of muse, an inspiration.  _ Otabek thought of the strange doll still sitting on his night table.  _ But since you are no illusion...I’m not so sure why you appeared in my life.  _

Otabek noticed a bright red color among the trees in the distance. He was sure it hadn’t been there before. He blinked and squinted, trying to get a better look. “Yuri,” he gave him a little nudge. “Do you see that?” 

Yuri yawned and stretched in his typical feline way. “See what?” He asked sleepily. 

Otabek pointed to the horizon. “That red thing...do you know what it is?”

Yuri shook his head. “No idea.” He pressed himself upright and let his wings unfurl behind him. “If it’s this far into your dream space, I doubt it could hurt you,” he said. “Do you want to go find out?”

Otabek got up and walked through the dense woods next to Yuri, who hovered in the air next to him. “Oh, so  _ now _ you levitate! After all that work I did to hold you up, you do this just to spite me.”

Yuri wore a wicked grin. 

“Why do I have a feeling my life isn’t going to get any easier once you’re back to normal?” Otabek asked.

Yuri crossed his arms. “Do you always expect the worst?”

Otabek shook his head. Yuri continued to look at him.

“What?” Otabek asked.

“Nothing,” Yuri said.

“Oh, come on, what is it?” Otabek asked.

Yuri started to laugh. “I’m just waiting,” he said.

“Waiting on what?” Otabek was amused, but increasingly irritated.

Yuri’s laughter echoed through the trees. “For you to remember that you can fly now too!” 

Otabek’s face fell. He stopped walking. Yuri flew behind him and rested his hands on Otabek’s shoulders. “You’re not used to having wings again, are you?” Yuri said, still chuckling. He planted a kiss between Otabek’s shoulder blades that made him shiver. “Believe me, they make for a lovely tattoo, but you can use them, if you want to.”

Yuri got a face-full of feathers as Otabek released them with a loud ‘thwap’. Yuri spit one from his mouth onto the ground. “Was that really necessary?”

Otabek grinned. “Yes.” He rose up to meet Yuri, and the two drifted silently through the air until the red object came into focus. A tree with red leaves, like flames. Otabek flew closer and saw light moving through the veins of the leaves. “It’s like that strange red kingdom we visited,” he said, admiring the vibrant color. “I liked that place.” Then he drew back suddenly. A gold serpent was hanging lazily among the branches, like the ones that had molted out of the wyverns’ skins by the Crispinos’ fortress. But the serpent simply blinked, idly flicking her tongue, paying Otabek no mind.

“What’s this doing here?” Yuri knelt on the ground beneath the tree, next to a short obelisk made of ice. 

Otabek landed next to him. “You didn’t put it here?” 

“No,” Yuri said. “Beka, look. This is your language, not mine.”

Otabek could just barely see his reflection in the surface of the ice. Carved into the glassy face, he saw his own handwriting, his native Kazakh written in its flowing Arabic script. He looked closer to read it. There were only short phrases, just enough to stir his memory. 

_ A bath of light. Endless darkness. A child with starry voids for eyes. _

Images flashed effortlessly into his mind. He saw the centaur’s powerful body dissolving into light, then remembered the immense sadness of the strange space around the child. He turned to the red tree again and found he could visualize the intricate stone temple in perfect detail. His body felt warm, thinking of his tryst with Yuri there…

“I’ve got it,” Yuri said suddenly.

Otabek snapped out of his reverie. “Got what?”

“These are  _ your _ memories!” Yuri wore the gold snake about his neck like a stole. 

“What do you mean?” Otabek rustled his feathers, uneasy.

“Now I understand it,” Yuri said. The snake slithered down his arm. Yuri reached out to Otabek, who recoiled. “Don’t be alarmed, this one belongs to you. Let her touch you, see what happens.”

Otabek was stiff, holding his breath as the huge serpent climbed across his shoulders. Then he felt suddenly calm. He remembered Sara’s face, streaked with tears, holding a delicate smile as she flew off with the blue pegasus. The snake draped herself over Otabek, and he found it strangely pleasant, heavy and cool. 

“Hmpf. She likes you better than me,” Yuri said, his arms crossed. “I guess because you generate more heat. The cold-blooded creatures are like that. Picky.”

Otabek ran his hand over the snake’s smooth, shining scales. He cocked his head and smiled. “I’m not so sure about that, Yuri. You’re plenty warm when  _ I _ touch you.”

Now it was Yuri who looked flustered. 

“Don’t worry,” Otabek kissed the top of Yuri’s head. “It doesn’t make me think any less of you as an ice elemental. Besides, I like making ice melt from time to time.” He winked.

Yuri sighed. Another classic eye roll that made Otabek chuckle under his breath. “Anyways,” Yuri groaned, “the point I was trying to make is that the memories are stored in the form you know the best.” His look changed to a satisfied smile, and he raised a finger. “I know ice better than anything, so mine are stored in ice.” He touched the leaves on the luminous tree. “If you visit Dunya’s realm, you’ll see these great columns of smoke in the air. Endless strings of sigils in her language. They make no sense to me at all, I could never even hope to figure them out, but for her, she can store lifetime after lifetime.”

Otabek nodded, but he was still confused. 

Yuri smiled wide. “Your memories are a bunch of objects that have nothing to do with each other because your apartment is full of all that junk!”

“What the--? That stuff isn’t junk!” Otabek nearly dropped the snake from his shoulders. He hoisted her back up again. “Those are rare specimens! They’re my personal archive, they’re--”

Yuri just laughed out loud. “Yes, and that’s how you know the world! Through objects you collect and study.” He stood with his hands on his hips. “You spend hours gazing at them and dissecting them so you can understand them.”

Otabek stroked his chin. “I would have expected books,” he said. “A library…”

Yuri shook his head. “No, no, no, this is much more in line with your nature. Can’t you see your mind is trying to build a collection for you here?” He held out his hands and looked around. “I bet that funny tent thing where you met your sister is around here somewhere.”

“It’s called a yurt,” Otabek said. “My grandmother had one, before she passed. In my waking life I sold most of her things to pay for my journey to Saint Petersburg. My god, if it’s here, then it must be full of things that could help me.” He set the snake back onto a branch of the tree with some difficulty, as she was rather heavy. 

“We could look,” Yuri said. “If it’s not here, then maybe the Tree can help you build it.”

Otabek nodded. He felt an even deeper sense of wonder of what his realm might hold. He thought of the elegant little moth. “Yuri...Dunya said there were cliffs of ice in your memory kingdom--”

Yuri sneered. “Why would she tell you that?” He drew back and looked as if he smelled something foul.

Otabek shrugged. “I don’t know, she seemed to think they were important--”

“They aren’t,” Yuri said. A jewel-colored beetle landed on his arm, and he watched its tiny movements. 

“She said they had to do with your previous lives--”

“Beka, it’s not important, I told you.” Yuri glared at him, his eyes cold. Then he looked at the ground. “If it were, you would have seen it in my chapel.”

Otabek lay his hands on Yuri’s shoulders. “You are a lot of things, Yuri, but a convincing liar is not one of them.”

Yuri shut his eyes and inhaled sharply through his clenched teeth. “Beka, just drop it, all right? Dunya likes to meddle where she doesn’t belong. And now Fedya takes after her…” He planted the top of his head against Otabek’s chest. 

Otabek ran his hand over Yuri’s hair. “I wonder if there’s any record of my past lifetimes here,” he said.

Yuri sighed deeply and stood up straight. “They exist somewhere,” he said. “If you’re mad enough to want to see them, I’ll help you look.” 

Suddenly they heard a creaking sound behind them, and a gentle click, click across the forest floor. They turned around. A mechanical horse was walking slowly towards them, the size of a young pony. He tilted his head about, looking around, gears in his neck whirring and stopping as he moved; his glass eyes blinked with the help of a series of springs. Otabek could see that it was a purely mechanistic being, but more complex than any he could imagine. Gears turned and the small horse swished his tail, made of a fringe of fine gold chains. 

Yuri looked on, curious. “And what memories are stored in you, I wonder?”

Otabek sank to his knees in front of the horse. He sat still for a few moments as he and the metal animal contemplated each other. “I’m afraid I can’t touch you, my friend,” he said, his voice soft. The horse turned his head earnestly. 

“I spent years when I was younger trying to design a mechanical horse that could walk on its own,” Otabek explained to Yuri. His wings drooped. “I was trying to imagine something my sister would like. And the ideas just came to me.” He slouched forward.

Yuri stood in the grass next to him. The pony turned to Yuri, and Yuri rubbed his brass nose affectionately. The thin chains of his mane jingled as Yuri stroked them. “Sometimes a work of art already exists in an upper world before you see it in your mind,” Yuri said. “Perhaps this one already existed, when you were little. And you were the perfect person to receive it.”

“Perhaps,” Otabek said, smiling faintly. He became lost in thought, remembering how his hand seemed to move on its own accord as he drew the schematics, how a single word from Rivken brought down a storm of ideas that he could barely write down fast enough. He missed those days.

“The little horses are made in a factory now.” Otabek’s voice was becoming more strained and thin. “I still receive some money from the patent.” He laughed softly. “That little toy is the best thing I’ve ever made. Better than any weapon, any vehicle...anything else I’ve designed.” He squinted his eyes tightly, feeling them burn. “I’m sure that little thing has brought more utility to the world than anything else I’ve ever done,” he shook his head and blinked out a few stinging tears, “if for no other reason than that children like it. It makes them feel more curiosity and affection towards animals.”

Yuri ran his hand down this horse’s back, examining the systems of gears, levers, and springs that made up his body. 

Otabek watched them. “I made so many models...the first one that worked...I painted it red and I took it to the grave site for Aruzhan.” He put his face in his hand, and tears leaked through his fingers. “I’m sure by now it’s nothing but rust.” 

Yuri sat down next to Otabek. Everything was silent except for the wind in the trees and the faint click of the horse’s blinking eyes. 

“Beka,” Yuri said quietly, “Now you understand that not everything that appears in these places is something you want to look at right away?”

Otabek wiped his face. His wings vanished into his back, and at his wish, his rider’s clothes wove themselves over his body again. “I don’t much feel like flying right now,” he said. “It’s going to be morning soon, isn’t it?”

Yuri stood up and willed his long, white cloak to appear. He collapsed his wings and reached down to Otabek. Otabek took his hand and Yuri pulled him to his feet.

“Will you just walk with me until dawn?” Otabek asked, still clasping Yuri’s hand.

“Of course,” Yuri said. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri is becoming more and more visible to the people around Otabek, and Otabek is struggling to maintain his facade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SWEAR this curse is going to get broken soon. If you have read this far and stayed with me for this long, THANK YOU. My goal is to get another chapter or two in before Christmas. If I'm really productive, Yuri will get out of this mess before Christmas.

Otabek expected to wake up to a splitting headache. Instead it was merely a dull throb, and he knew he had Yuri’s magic to thank for that. Pale sun filled the small bedroom. Otabek searched for his watch in the pocket of his vest and saw that it was only a little past nine. Not a terribly embarrassing late hour. 

The tiny blue light glowed on the pillow next to him. Otabek sat up and smiled. He held out his palm and the little spectre floated into it. 

Otabek sighed. “If you were not real,” he said, “I would be lying here driving myself mad, imagining that you were.” The flame glowed a little brighter. “Always good to know the source of your insanity isn’t entirely made up,” he added with a grin. For a brief instant, he could have sworn he saw the tiny figure sticking his tongue out. 

Even after washing up, Otabek still felt musty and disheveled. His shirt still smelled of pipe smoke from the night before. But if Sara noticed or cared about that when Otabek walked into the living room at the end of the hall, she gave no inclination. She sat in front of the fireplace in a heavy blue velvet coat with lace spilling from the sleeves, and a wool shawl in the provincial style. A table next to her was set with a silver coffee service.

“I had a feeling you might be the first one awake,” Sara said. For a second her eyes darted to the light on Otabek’s shoulder. “Come sit down, you must be cold without your jacket. Have some coffee.”

Otabek took the chair next to her; he wondered if Yuri noticed its clawed feet, something Otabek thought he might find appealing. 

“Sugar or cream?” Sara asked.

“Just a splash of cream,” Otabek said. He noticed her hand trembling ever so slightly as she poured his cup. 

“Sara...are you alright? You look a bit pale,” he said as he took the cup and saucer from her. 

“I think that’s to be expected, given the kind of night we had.” Her laugh was unconvincing. 

“Beka, ask her!” came the barely audible whisper in his ear.

The heat of the porcelain cup felt good on his hands. Otabek looked into the fire for a moment. “Are you sure there isn’t something on your mind?” 

He noticed she was looking at a painting next to the fireplace, of a castle on a hill. The canvas showed it surrounded by a lush orchard, against a warm blue sky. But Otabek recognized the building immediately.

“I just had some distressing dreams, that’s all,” Sara said. 

Otabek watched the steam from his coffee unfurl in front of the frieze of plaster angels along the top of the fireplace. He wondered how best to approach Sara, how to make her feel understood and not terrified. “Hm...well, some people believe there are important messages hidden in dreams. Or that dreams are prophetic.”

Sara shook her head and poured herself another half a cup of coffee. “No, this was a dream about the past, not the future.” She sighed. “You were in it,” she said. Then she immediately drew back. “But that’s not why it was distressing!”

The sudden spurt of laughter between them cleared something tense and heavy from the air. 

“No,” Sara said, her voice soft again, “It was a dream about my brother.”

“Something grave has happened to him, hasn’t it?” Otabek asked, tentative. 

“If I am to believe what I saw.” 

“Sara, that castle, in the painting…” Otabek gestured toward it. Sara’s eyes widened, curious. “That was the place you saw, wasn’t it?”

Sara just looked at him, blinking.

Otabek dared to go a bit farther. “On the door...there was something that isn’t there in real life, wasn’t there? A giant face…”

He saw that her eyes were filling up with tears. “How do you know about this?” she whispered.

Otabek was quiet for a moment. No, no use making anything up. Out with it. “Because I was there,” he said. “I saw it. But only the exterior of the fortress. I waited for you outside.” 

Sara sat back in her chair and sank her face into her hands. “Otabek, how is this possible?”

Now didn’t seem like the time for a lecture about the Tree of Life. “In the past week,” he said, “I’ve seen and recalled more from dreams than I have in my entire life prior to this.” He shook his head. “I don’t entirely understand it myself.” 

Sara looked severe. “Well you mustn’t tell Anya--”

“No, it’s all right, she knows,” Otabek said gently. He sighed. “She’s the one who told me to go with you, last night.”

“I don’t understand.” Sara reached for a biscuit to soothe her nerves.

Otabek squinted. “I’m positive she won’t want to speak about it in detail,” he said, “but Anya is very gifted at remembering dreams.”

“So that was really her, then? Who I saw in the hallway?” Sara looked at the painted tiles on the floor in front of the fireplace. “I don’t remember much of the beginning. Anya was shouting at someone. But then, it became the clearest and most vivid dream I’ve ever seen,” she said. “And I’m certain it was also the most horrible. So I’m inclined to believe it.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “Sorry,” she said.

“Anyone would have been shaken by what you saw, Sara,” Otabek said. “There’s no need to apologize.” He inched his chair closer to the fire. “Seeing it in that way doesn’t make it any less painful.”

Sara drew her shawl around her more tightly. “And what about you?” She tilted her head. “You say that as if you know something about it, hm?”

Otabek shrugged. “I guess--”

“And you saw the figure lying across the table at the bar last night!” She crossed her arms.

“Wait, what figure?” Otabek asked.

“The man with the long blonde hair!” Sara perched with her hands on the arms of the chair. 

Otabek drew back. “You saw his hair? All I could see was a bluish light, roughly the size of a man--”

“Otabek who is he? The man with the blonde hair? He reminds me of that odd little doll that Mila found. And he was waiting with you! Outside Mickey’s fortress.” 

Sara’s eyes gleamed with sincerity. Otabek could not have lied to her if he wanted to; it would have been like lying to Aruzhan. 

“I--well, perhaps it’s best if I don’t explain,” he said. “Sara, you clearly have some gift for seeing the non-material. I suppose if he  _ wishes _ to be seen, you can discern for yourself. But this...honestly, it really is for the best if you don’t mention this to Anya. I’ll never hear the end of it.” Otabek held out his hand. The tiny light walked down his arm and settled in his palm. 

Sara pressed her fingertips to her lips. 

The door to the living room swung open and Mila walked inside, carrying a huge orange housecat that was nuzzling her face. “There you are, darlings!” She set the cat down on the floor, and Sara got up and ran to her. She threw her arms around Mila’s shoulders. When Michele walked in a few moments later, Sara did the same to him. He looked deeply perplexed. 

Otabek would spend the morning pretending that nothing unusual had happened at all. 

❅

Otabek wasn’t used to such a lavish breakfast, even if it was served casually, in the salon. Yuri hid himself in Otabek’s shirt, and Otabek pretended to take no notice of the tiny, reddish light in Leo’s hair. 

Otabek turned down Sara’s offer to have a carriage take him home, choosing instead to take advantage of the exercise and fresh air. Soon it would be too cold to walk about freely. As he was preparing to leave, he saw Anya waiting in the hallway, gazing out a window into the courtyard below, with a faint smile on her face. He walked up next to her and looked out the window himself. Seeing nothing unusual, he turned to her.

“The crows,” she said, still smiling. A tree in front of them was full of a whole flock of them, staggered between the last of its orange leaves. “I like all birds, but crows are special to me.”

“You are doing yourself no favors,” Otabek said.

Anya cocked her head. “And what do you mean?”

“That sounds exactly like something a witch would say.”

Anya looked at the tree and laughed. “One doesn’t need to be a mystic or a sorcerer to have a certain type of animal they hold dear to their heart,” she said. “Although Mila tells me you are something of a savant with horses.”

“She flatters me,” Otabek said.

“She doesn’t flatter everyone,” Anya said. Otabek was unaccustomed to seeing her smile. “Have you ever seen crows play?” she asked him. “They’re very intelligent animals. Once, I left a scrap of tin outside my father’s office on a snowy day, and a little crow took it and used it as a tiny sled on the snow-covered roof.” The nostalgic warmth in her voice was also unfamiliar. “Now many of the crows in Berezhevoye do this, if they can find a suitable leaf or some kind of flat object. It never fails to make me smile.”

“Hm, I’m warmed to know that there’s at least one thing in the universe that does,” Otabek said.

Anya’s grin remained. “I enjoy your wit,” she said. “Excuse me if I’m slow to show it. I take my time assessing who to count as a friend. A natural consequence of what I do.”

“And what is that, exactly?” Otabek crossed his arms. He still felt skeptical of Anya, but there was also a prickle of excitement and hope at having become even a tiny bit closer to one of Mila’s elite inner circle. 

“I’m a healer,” Anya said. “Through means both common and mysterious,” she nearly whispered. “My family has been friends with the Babichev’s for generations.”

“And does Mila know about your...uncommon methods?” Otabek asked, his own voice softer.

“She knows I come from a line of folk healers,” Anya said. “And that my father, in his wisdom, sought to carefully frame my lessons with my grandmother as me learning midwifery.” She gave a little shrug. “Which I also know.”

Otabek looked into the courtyard, watching a few of the crows hopping about on the ground. He thought of the zany little boy he’d met in Yuri’s dream realm, who seemed to think he was some great magician. “Well,” he said, “do I pass your tests? Sara seemed no worse for wear this morning, did she?”

“I find it wildly uncanny that only a week ago, you were bewildered to remember your dreams at all, and now you undoubtedly remember our complete conversation,” Anya said. “Something is changing you, Otabek. Or perhaps someone. But whether it’s an awakening or a descent into illusion, I’m still not completely sure.”

“Give me some advice, then, for heaven’s sake,” Otabek said. “How does one tell the difference?”

Anya touched her finger to her chin. “You know, Otabek, when you travel, you have no greater ally than the Tree of Life. Ask it to show you who you really are. Ask it to show you who your companions really are.”

“Is it really that simple?” Otabek felt frustrated but hopeful at the same time.

“Discerning the answer may take you an entire lifetime,” Anya said. “But if you ask, it will lead somewhere. It will hasten the process.”

Otabek frowned. “And what about you? What has the tree shown you that you are?”

Anya turned up her palms. “A human girl. Nothing more or less. I learned my craft from my ancestors. And because I was open to it,” she gave it Otabek a side-eyed glance, “other secrets of nature revealed themselves to me.” She set her hands on her hips. “You cannot learn what you aren’t prepared to hear, Otabek. It’s one of the classic axioms of magic.”

“Aren’t there some lines in the gospels on that same topic?” Otabek asked.

“Proving my point,” Anya said. “Now you know why so many so-called ‘believers’ are so deeply asleep. Don’t waste your time praying if you aren’t willing to listen to the answer.” 

Otabek wondered what he could be doing wrong. He made a point to ask the Tree questions himself on Yuri’s behalf. Including how to listen. 

“You know, Otabek,” Anya sighed, “if it weren’t for the influence of Kerebos’s magic, I’d be happy for you. Really. Awakening within the dream is a marvelous accomplishment. It opens so many doors.” She began to look distant and sad. There was a moment of silence. “I am no great student of history,” she said quietly. “But I do know that when a person is trying to get close to an enemy, it’s often far more effective to invade his mind than to invade his country. Spread madness, illusions, lies. It can do more harm than any plague.” She folded her arms. “Kerebos is a master of illusions, like I told you. I don’t know what it is that you dream about in life, Otabek, but Kerebos is gifted at discerning the secret wishes of people’s hearts, and then torturing them with illusions of that thing.” She looked back up at him. 

“You sound like you speak from experience,” Otabek said softly.

“I count it among the worst experiences of my life,” Anya said. She glanced at Otabek’s chest.

“What’s the matter?” Otabek asked.

Anya placed her fingers on something invisible in the air, in the space between her and Otabek. At first it looked as though she were playing a keyboard, or a flute. “He has a silver thread,” she said. She shut her eyes. “He wasn’t lying to you about being an elemental, then.” She folded her hands and looked at Otabek again. “That’s funny. Usually Kerebos only conjures images of beings, not the beings themselves. Curious.” She tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure if that makes your companion more dangerous, or less so. Maybe Kerebos has simply found a way to torment more beings at once.”

Anya crossed her arms and looked squarely at Otabek. “You should know that I’m under an oath to keep Mila safe, in all matters, material and psychic. I don’t particularly care if I lose friends in the process,” her expression darkened. “But you are clearly a friend of Mila’s, she enjoys your company and she likes your thoughtful nature.” Anya took a step back. “If there is a noxious influence on you, I’m obliged to know. And if you find yourself beset with psychic ills, then I implore you to tell me. Immediately.”

“Naturally,” Otabek said.

“How good are you at keeping secrets?” Anya asked.

“Few things come as easily to me,” Otabek said. “For better or for worse.”

Anya nodded and began to walk away.

“Anya, wait. You know so much about Kerebos. What do you know about breaking his curses?”

Anya drew her lips together tightly. When she spoke, there was a slightly ragged quality to her voice. “Otabek...if I knew that, I would tell you immediately.” She looked around nervously. “His symbols are no longer in my energy, the way they contaminate your friend.” She pointed to Otabek’s chest. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not still under a curse myself,” she whispered. She turned and walked rapidly down the hall, the sound of sniffling echoing off the walls before she disappeared into one of the bedrooms. 

❄

Otabek walked at a leisurely pace through the city, speaking quietly to himself and to Yuri when he was out of earshot of the people around him.

“Everything is starting to feel different,” he said. “The sky feels alive. I feel as though the river is whispering to me.” He looked up at the avenue of trees. “Every leaf contains secrets, don’t they?” But what struck him most of all was a feeling of freedom spreading through his heart. 

Not only had everything he’d seen been real, but now there were people who knew about it. And not just anyone, but society women with reputations to uphold. They had no incentive to mislead him or lie, and no reason to make what they’d seen known to anyone else. 

Otabek stopped at the center of a bridge across the river, and looked at the gently rippling water below. The blue light had remained on his shoulder as he walked, but now, as he spotted his reflection, there was not one figure in the water, but two. 

❄

Otabek arrived home and hung his heavy overcoat on its brass hook by the door. He returned his evening jacket to the armoire in his bedroom and looked at himself in the beveled mirror set into its carved wooden door. He explained to Yuri that he’d never taken any great interest in fashion. It wasn’t until he arrived in St. Petersburg that he realized it was yet another language he would have to learn. Rivken had his tailor make Otabek a suit as a parting gift, and Otabek prayed he would look the part. 

“We have simply got to get you something else to wear,” Christophe told him during his first week of working for Yakov.

“What, besides this?” Otabek was livid.

“No, in addition to it,” Christophe said. He whisked Otabek into his office and immediately began taking his measurements.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Otabek said, “but you get a great deal of pleasure out of standing out, don’t you?”

Christophe gave him a sly look. “And what gave you that impression?” 

Otabek looked at his lace jabot, the green jacquard cuffs and gold buttons on his jacket. “Oh, just an intuition,” he said. “But in my case, well...let me just say, I think I stand out enough without any help from my clothes.”

“Did you really come here to blend in?” Christophe stood with his hand on his hip. He leaned over and whispered in Otabek’s ear. “Only small, insignificant people are threatened by talent, Otabek.”

Gifts from Christophe arrived by the week. A cravat here, a jacket there, a pair of gloves, a belt... In the beginning, it made Otabek nervous; he wondered if Christophe was trying to seduce him, or gain some favor. But he soon realized that it simply wasn’t possible to be friends with Christophe and not become something of a living paper doll. Leo, too, amassed a number of dashing hats; Mila’s ever-expanding closet boasted eccentric but elegant dresses that Christophe dreamed up in his free time. Otabek learned through the grapevine that Christophe hailed from a wealthy Swiss family and came to Russia out of a mixture of boredom and ambition. The gifts were no object. It was just how he was.

“Whatever you do in life, make it beautiful,” he said offhand once, straight pins in his teeth, as he fitted Otabek for an evening jacket. 

Otabek reached for a heavy sweater and a thick gray scarf that Sister Gulnaz had woven for him. He felt no need to look excessively important for a trip to the library. But as soon as he arrived, he heard his footsteps echo among the tall marble columns; he remembered the nausea of feeling so out of place that haunted him in his first days at the academy. It had never fully dissipated. The librarian at the long, wooden desk on the ground floor gave him a skeptical look. 

“Can I help you?” The thin old man with a hooked nose asked. It felt like more of a threat than a question.

“I’m looking for books about witchcraft and magic,” Otabek said.

The man looked as though he’d just smelled something foul.

Otabek sighed. “I have an argument I need to win,” he said, “with a superstitious and small-minded person who has way too much influence in my life.”

“I see.” The man looked slightly more satisfied. He directed Otabek to two rooms: Faust’s study, and the Voltaire Archive.

Otabek found himself alone in a small room with a splendidly colorful ceiling, covered in arches set with mosaic tiles. When he was sure he was by himself, he spoke quietly. “What a shame you can’t read, Yuri. You could fly ahead and help me find more books.” The air was heavy with the smell of ancient paper, and light glinted off the gilded spines of the rare volumes. “I suppose I’ll have to teach you how to read one day.” Then Otabek chuckled to himself. “God, I wonder what kind of student you would be.” 

Otabek searched both rooms, and brought a dozen volumes back to a lacquered table in the Faust study. He pulled out an ornately carved wooden chair and sat down in a column of sunlight streaming in from the window in front of him, warmed by the rays. He retrieved his notebook from his satchel, intending to capture anything that might help him. But as he skimmed through each book, he felt more and more dismayed. There were accounts of witches, and many gruesome etchings of how they were tortured and burned. “Let’s be glad such a dark time is over,” he said. The tiny light stood on the table, peering down at the pages. But Otabek couldn’t find anything about a general system of magic, a formula, a driving principle…

In the last of the books, he found illustrations of the Tree of Life. He couldn’t help but smile, as if seeing a portrait of an old friend. He heard a barely audible click in the quiet room, and felt the pressure of invisible fingertips on his upper back, gliding up the back of his neck. “Maybe I’m wasting my time, looking at dead paper for what can only be found in a living Tree. What do you think?” Otabek asked. The pages of the book appeared to turn on their own, to another drawing: a stylized tree made of densely woven knotwork. Otabek let his gaze meander through the lines. “So much has been gained in our age of science, and yet I wonder just how much has been truly lost.” 

He took his notebook and began sketching. When he closed his eyes, he felt the distinct presence of a person sitting on the edge of the table next to him, and it brought him a great sense of peace. Otabek drew the strange armor he and his friends had worn as best as he could from memory; the great stone face, the serpents, the mechanical horse…

The door creaked open behind him and Otabek heard a loud gasp. He turned around. A young woman with sandy colored hair and a simple black dress stood in the door frame looking lily white, frozen.

“Are you all right?” he set down his pencil.

The woman pointed to the floor next to him. “That...that shadow…” she could barely speak.

Otabek looked down. The sun through the window showed his own silhouette on the tile floor. Next to it was the shadow of a long-haired figure sitting on the edge of the table. But nothing appeared to be casting it. There was a faint click, and the second shadow dispersed, like smoke. 

Otabek looked back at the terrified girl. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure...what...you’re talking about.” Shit, he thought. Now he would have to convince this poor woman she was going mad.

She blinked rapidly, shaking her head and backing away. “There was another person...there was a garland on his head...No!” Her eyes widened, her face suddenly lit up. “A crown of thorns!” She clasped her hand over her mouth, her eyes began to tear up. “I’ve just had a vision!” She fell to her knees, looking up at the top of the arched window. 

“Miss? Are you sure you’re ok?” Otabek helped her to her feet. She was shaking.

“Yes, yes, I’m more than ok,” she said, her eyes glassy. “I’m...are you sure you didn’t see it?” She gave Otabek an imploring look. 

He shook his head. 

She walked slowly out of the room, catching her breath. “It’s a miracle,” she whispered to herself. 

When she was finally gone, Otabek turned back to the desk. “Yuri!” he hissed more than whispered. The shadow had returned, the figure’s arms were crossed. There was a space where the fine particles of dust in the air that were caught by the light could not be seen, and it formed a faint outline of a person.

“Yuri, you have got to be more discreet!” Otabek whispered. “Do you realize how lucky we are? That woman thought you were an apparition of Christ, or some saint! But she was completely terrified! I thought she was going to faint right there in the middle of the floor!” Otabek sank back down into the chair, his heart still beating entirely too fast. “Yuri...don’t you see?” He nudged a book that detailed the witch hunts. “People are so desperately afraid of what they don’t understand.”

The figure drew its knees to its chest, and the shape of the shadow reminded Otabek of the strange child in the void-like space. 

“We’ll keep asking the Tree,” Otabek said. “We’ll do it again tonight. We’ll figure this out, I promise.” He lay on the desk, resting his head on his forearms. There was no apology, just the faint stroke of ghostly fingers through his hair. 

❆

“I’ll make you another promise,” Otabek whispered as he waited for his carriage to arrive that evening. “Tonight, you won’t have a single black leaf to pick off of me.” He heard a tiny sneer of laughter. “I know you don’t believe me, but trust me. Tonight is going to be different.” 

Christophe’s driver waved as he turned the corner onto Otabek’s street. It was a cozier ride than Otabek expected, with Christophe, Leo, and Emil all crammed in together, in their heavy coats. 

“You ready for another go?” Leo asked. “I’m still recovering from last night.”

“Good lord, after how much the Crispinos fed us this morning, I don’t think I need to eat for two days,” Emil said.

Christophe gave a dry little laugh. “Prepare yourselves, this is the General we’re about to see. There will be nothing subtle about this evening, I can assure you that.” He looked at Otabek with a raised eyebrow, and Otabek suddenly understood: there was going to be an after party. 

But he’d promised Yuri a sober evening. Otabek tried to keep a straight face, but he felt something inside him curdling. 

_ It’s fine _ , he told himself. _ It’s fine, I can just watch the others in the bathhouse. No one will fault me for that, they didn’t last time. I can pretend to still be a little ill from the absinthe, or just… _

_ It’s fine. The General won’t hold it against me.  _

_ If everyone else is drunk, surely they won’t notice if I’m just acting? _

_ But even still...what will Yuri think? _


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek finds a way to overcome his fear of being sober while Yuri gets a cosmic slap in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had to accept that it's going to take me a long time to finish this. I can't do it right and do it as fast as I want to. It's been a rough month but I'm finally back to writing regularly!

General Nikiforov hadn’t been born stupidly rich, and it was for that reason, Otabek believed, that he favored anyone in the academy who’d had to advance himself through brains and cunning alone. Nikiforov came up with elaborate schemes to sell Russian weapons abroad, and had come back from his most recent round of negotiations with Kastuki in tow and a massive chunk of money for the Tsar. Each month, Otabek ignored the cringe of guilt he felt when he saw the results of Nikiforov’s dealings in his bank account. One day, he thought, he might extract himself from the machine he was bound up in. But for the time being, he couldn’t yet afford to. 

The General’s apartment took up an entire top floor of a building directly across from the academy. Butlers took the guests’ coats in a long corridor that led to the dining room. Otabek heard Mila snort with laughter at the paintings hanging in their heavily gilded frames. Where a nobleman would have had portraits of his forebears, Nikiforov had scenes of his favorite topics: hunting dogs and classical male nudes. 

A butler carrying a tray of champagne glasses started to hand one to Otabek, who looked around nervously. “Ah, could I, um, trouble you for a glass of water?” Otabek leaned in and asked quietly.

“Certainly, sir,” the butler said.

“And, ah, could you--” he caught the butler’s shoulder, “pour it in a cocktail glass?”

The butler chuckled. “Gladly.”

Otabek felt naked and awkward until his makeshift drink appeared in his hand. He found himself clutching onto the cut crystal glass like a child holding onto a soft doll, afraid of the dark. He felt a burning wave of frustration go through him. Why couldn’t he just tell the others he didn’t want to drink that night? 

He heard a burst of the General’s distinctive laughter from the dining room at the end of the hall, and it made him sigh. Otabek felt he owed the General everything. If it hadn’t been for Viktor’s glowing words about him in the beginning, Otabek felt certain he would have scraped by as a nobody, with far more enemies than just Petukhov and Gorky. It was as if Viktor’s reputation shined a light on Otabek, allowing him to be visible at all. And now his own wealth was growing because of Viktor’s schemes. Otabek was not a rich man compared to his employers, but he measured his wealth in books, and his collection was beginning to rival the Rivkens’, something that brought him great joy.

He felt a presence behind him.

“Now it’s your turn to look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Sara touched his arm gently. 

Otabek sighed with relief seeing that it was her. He glanced around. “I promised someone I wouldn’t drink tonight,” he whispered.

“And why on Earth would you do that?” Sara asked, laughing.

Otabek hung his head for a second. “Do you remember the young man with blonde hair?” Sara raised an eyebrow. “He’s the one I made the promise to.” Otabek smiled in spite of himself. “It’s harder to commune with spirits when one is soaked in spirits.”

Sara shrugged. “Well then, I wish you the best of luck.” A butler handed her a glass. “Shall we say you have an ulcer or something?” She took a sip of champagne.

Otabek shook his head. “No need.” No, this he needed to sort out on his own. Sara linked her arm through his as they walked into the dining room. Mila stood talking to Viktor, but she had a distant, dreamy look on her face as Sara strode into the room.

_ I wonder if that’s what I look like when I see Yuri approaching _ , Otabek thought.

That evening the General and Katsuki were both dressed as Japanese nobility. Viktor took great pleasure in swishing about his home in his long, silken robes. _ He’s such a peacock, but at least it’s endearing _ , Otabek thought.  _ Besides, one has to commend a man who embraces other cultures.  _

He sipped his water; the butler had graciously disguised it with a twist of lemon and a sprig of mint. He felt his throat dry out as he spoke, his face felt stiff, his smile forced into place, even among friends. 

Viktor flitted about like a butterfly, each guest seemed to bring him even more elation. Otabek struggled to imagine him commanding a regiment, raining fire on some enemy army, invading a territory on behalf of the Tsar. But perhaps he was one of those chameleon-like men whose whole demeanor transformed depending on where he was. In society, he had all the affability and charm of an eager puppy. On the battlefield, perhaps the rage of hellfire came just as naturally to him. 

A chameleon nature…If only Otabek could transform into someone who needed no chemical help to be funny. Why was it so hard? He stood in a little cluster of his friends and nodded and smiled politely as they talked, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

_ The dreamer.  _ The dreamer needed no help at all. His words were effortless, and Yuri, the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, found no fault with them. Their conversations flowed like dances, and Otabek needed no great scheme to make Yuri laugh, freely and easily. 

_ Why can’t I be like that here? Am I not the same person?  _

Otabek noticed Michele talking to Leo and Emil. He seemed a bit more relaxed, his posture not so stiff. Otabek prayed some good had come of Sara’s journeying with the Tree. There was no reason to ever mention it. Still, Otabek found he saw Michele in a much softer light, someone subject to forces beyond his control. He wondered about the rest of his friends, what realms they kept their secrets in. 

Otabek noticed the tiny red and blue lights drifting off of his shoulder. No one else could see the elementals except for Sara, but she was busy chatting away. The little red light settled into an oil lamp, and the blue one disappeared soon after. Otabek could just barely discern a thread coming from the flame.

_ What’s this now? Abandoning me already? Well, suit yourselves then! I’ll find you again tonight, Yuri. I’ll be as clean as the freshly fallen snow, you just watch me.  _ Otabek knew Yuri found it frustrating to decode French. He couldn’t blame him for wanting to travel off somewhere with Guang Hong until the soiree was over. Still, Otabek felt jealous. He was always more at ease in those dream realms than at these gatherings. And even though Guang Hong had a shy, innocent nature, Otabek still found himself a bit put off that his lover had gone off with someone else. He didn’t like the idea of being left alone. 

“Something on your mind, Otabek? You seem distracted.” Katsuki sidled up to him, looking like one of the elegant noblemen from the book of prints. He was at ease in the General’s home, less bumbling and chaotic. He wasn’t wearing his usual glasses, and he had his hair slicked back. Otabek found the overall effect striking. He hadn’t fully appreciated the historian’s refined features before.

“Just admiring,” Otabek said, looking around the lavish room. “Difficult not to.”

“True, although I find the human decoration this evening much more remarkable than the furniture, don’t you think?” His face was just the slightest bit flushed. He lay his hand on Otabek’s shoulder.

This did nothing to help Otabek’s nerves. For a second, he panicked, wondering which would be more offensive to the General: pushing Katsuki away, or accepting his advances. 

_ If this were all a dream, what would I do? What would I say? _

“The General has a special talent for...curating, don’t you think?” Otabek said, trying to leave an ambiguous lightness to his voice. “He tends to gather remarkable people around him, doesn’t he?”

Katsuki smiled wide, eating it up. 

“Speaking of remarkable,” Otabek touched Katsuki’s sleeve. “This is exquisite--”

“I can have one made for you if you’d like,” Katsuki said, stifling a small hiccup.

“By no means,” Otabek said. “The robe you gave me before is absolutely splendid.”

“Oh, do you like it?” Katsuki took Otabek’s arm and claimed him until the meal began. Otabek decided the best thing he could do would be to shower the pretty foreigner with attention and affection, and chalk it all up to his admiration for the General and the General’s impeccable taste. Still, he felt himself sweating a bit under his collar.

Otabek remembered something Mila told him. “If you find you are trapped in a social engagement and you don’t know what to do, simply ask questions. Make the other person fascinating. Find out all about their life and what they think of things. Few people will ever see it for the ruse it is. You’ll endear them to you, and they’ll rarely suspect they’re being flattered. Most people love few things more than giving their opinion or talking about themselves.”

But this was not a simple ruse, Otabek realized. If he hadn’t met his own Yuri, he’d have been even more dumbstruck by Viktor’s. Otabek liked the historian. 

_ If this were a dream, what would I do? Could I simply...enjoy it?  _ For the time being, Christophe was examining Katsuki’s garments and peppering him with questions about them.  _ No, if this were a dream, Yuri would be here, and I’d want him on my arm instead. But if Yuri were here he’d be sulking in the corner, wouldn’t he? Or making snide comments about everything he disliked… _

_ Or maybe, out of respect to me, he’d try being nice to my friends. They might even like him. Well, some of them, anyway. _

Otabek wouldn’t deny how heartening it was to feel sought out by Katsuki. The General winked at him, and Otabek knew he was being recruited for the bathhouse. But being roped into the inner circle was no small ordeal, and every minute Katsuki clung to his arm, Otabek felt his status rising.

_ The problem, though, is that you are someone else’s beautiful person, and I want my own. But he is not yet here… _

_ Tonight. The Tree. I’m determined. _

_ Wait a second, the Tree!  _ Otabek had never tried calling on the Tree while he was awake. While Katsuki was distracted, he took a deep breath.

_ Send me a guide,  _ he thought _. I need to move through this night as if I were dreaming. Help me, make me into that person who has no fear. Make me that person that Yuri loves, because anyone who is good enough for him is good enough for these people! _

Otabek felt a bright, burning sensation run up the length of his spine. Oh, to have a spine! A backbone! He felt himself stand up straighter, his feet rooted into the ground. He felt a pricking on the skin of his back.  _ My wings!  _ No one else could see them, but Otabek saw a gleaming outline in his reflection in the window.

He sat across from Katsuki and the General during the meal, Sara by his side.  _ This is all a dream _ , he told himself. He observed the other guests and found his senses were heightened. Every voice sounded sharper, clearer, and more colorful; the taste of the food was richer. The flowers glowed with life in their vases, and Otabek could see tiny green lights lifting them up, tending to them.

He began to feel more and more like he really was dreaming, like he could say or do anything. He could sense a heaviness around some of the others, and wondered why it was that each person drank as much as they did. Habit? Opportunity? Fear? The General seemed to need no help being himself, but what could he say for Katsuki, with his usually nervous airs? 

Finally, the observation came like an axe hanging over his head: “Otabek, you haven’t touched your wine,” Viktor said.

There was a moment of silence. 

“I can’t have it,” Otabek said plainly. 

This earned him many confused looks. 

_ This is a dream. _ “I made a bet,” he said.

“With whom?” Mila laughed.

“A strange young man from Berezhovoye,” Otabek said. By now, everyone at the table was listening. 

“Really now?” Sara was confused. “And what do you win, if you win this bet?”

“I was told,” Otabek felt the others’ gazes burn into him, “that if I could go a single night without drinking, he would leave his family in Berezhevoye and come stay with me in Petersburg.”

The table twittered with amusement. “And why have we not heard about this young man before, hm?” Mila asked, her hand on her hip.

_ I am the dreamer, this is a dream. _ Otabek reached for his water glass. “Well, like I said, he’s very,  _ very _ strange.” More laughter. “Lovely to look at, but rather withholding with his affections. He feels the need to...challenge me.”

“Oh, you must introduce him to us,” Viktor said.

“I’d like to, if he’ll abide it.”

“Is he going to be your apprentice?” Katsuki asked.

Otabek touched his finger to his lip. “I’m sure that’s what we’ll tell anyone who asks.” Otabek felt a small part of himself dying inside at joking so openly about having an affair. But making the General laugh was better than gold in the bank. “He has many talents, so to speak,” Otabek earned a snicker from Mila, “but whether mechanics are among them, that remains to be seen.”

“Well now I’m simply burning with curiosity about this young man.” Mila propped her chin on her palm. “Who in Berezhevoye of all places has gotten Beka wrapped around his little finger, hm?”

“It’s about time you brought someone into the fold,” Christophe said. “You’ve only had two whole years at the academy.” He reached across the table and took Otabek’s wine glass from him. “I’d hate to see this go to waste, it’d be a sin.”

“Yes, and we all know how important it is not to sin in this household,” Otabek said to another volley of laughter, feeling his wings of light stretch out behind him.

❄

A line of penguins of every shape and size filed past Yuri and Guang Hong in the temple corridor. Yuri bowed his head respectfully, and Guang Hong followed suit. The huge, tubby birds nodded their beaks in reply and went on their way, honking about to themselves.

“Yuri, who are they?” Guang Hong asked.

“Oh, they’re ice spirits, too,” Yuri said. “Not all that different from me. They just take the forms of animals instead. In their part of the world, it’s going to be spring soon. So they have an entirely separate set of rituals to conduct.”

Guang Hong looked around at the glowing runes on the walls that pulsated slowly with light. “Yuri, are you sure it’s alright for me to be here? I have to say, I feel rather out of place.”

“What? Of course it’s alright,” Yuri said. “The Tree brought you here. It would never do that if it weren’t allowed. Just don’t melt anything, you’ll be fine.” Yuri smiled, but it faded immediately when he saw who was waiting in the center of the temple.

An elegant, wolf-like black-and-white dog with heavy fur and pale blue eyes sat on a block of ice hovering above the brilliant pool. When Yuri entered, the dog stood on his hind legs and his appearance transformed into that of a man with black hair. His long, shimmering blue robe had complex tassels and pleats that were marks of a society more ancient than any that could be found on Earth. His piercing gaze was fixed on Yuri, his arms crossed.

“Oh God, it’s Seung-gil,” Yuri whispered to Guang Hong. “One of the Guardians.” He bowed deeply and stood back up.

“Yuri,” the stern man said, “You have abandoned your post at Berezhevoye.”

Yuri clenched his teeth. “Oh, have some mercy, won’t you?” He growled. He stretched out his arms. “Are you a Guardian or aren’t you? Can’t you see this cursed sludge I have running through my energy? I’ve done the best I can to keep this filth  _ away _ from Berezhevoye!”

Seung-gil didn’t give him an inch. “And you have brought a fire elemental to our temple.” He looked Guang Hong up and down, reading his flame-like energy.

Yuri felt ready to scream. “No, the Tree of Life brought him here,” he said. “I swear, every time I meet you here, it’s like this. You pelt me with accusations--”

“I say things to test your knowledge, Yuri, not to impart my own,” Seung-gil said.

Yuri dropped to his knees, he turned his palms up. “How can you not see that it’s your knowledge I need now more than ever?” Involuntary tears leaked from his eyes. “I’ve been praying to the gods over and over to help me out of this situation I’m in! I’ve asked Lilia, Koyla, Dunya--”

“Yes, it’s just like you to consort with other elementals instead of doing your work,” Seung-gil said. His unblinking eyes remained on Yuri. Yuri sensed a force of their own coming from them, something reaching into him from the gaze, as though it meant to shake him apart from the inside out. He felt the center of his chest blistering and burning. 

Yuri stood up again, locked into a beam of the Guardian’s energy. “I am in this mess in the first place because I was trying to protect the territory that was given to me!” 

Seung-gil stepped down from his platform of ice to stand in front of Yuri. They stood at roughly the same height, and Yuri found it made his gaze that much more direct and intense. “No, a proper ice spirit would have known not to meddle with a practitioner of dark magic,” Seung-gil said. “You are far too impetuous, too impulsive, too impatient--”

“Then what would you have me do?” Yuri yelled to his face.

“My point exactly,” Seung-gil said snidely. “You are simply not cut out for this, Yuri. Sometimes I think the gods are making a fool of me, forcing me to look over your work--”

“I did the rites,” Yuri hissed. “Even in this nightmare state, cut off from my body, I showed up and performed the rites with Koyla.” He pointed at the ground, taking a step toward Seung-gil. He swept his arm back toward the corridor where the penguins had marched past them. “I have done everything that’s been asked of me, from day one! What more do you want me to do? I am doing everything I can to get back to my lake--”

“You should never have been made what you are,” Seung-gil said. He sighed, but the intensity of his energy did not let up. “You are miserable at being an elemental. You are much too emotional, too easily hurt, too volatile. You love the human world too much.”

“What do you mean, I love the human world?” Yuri felt himself crack with anger, laughing in spite of himself. “Every day I am blown away by the nonsense of it--”

“And constantly trying to find your place in it,” Seung-gil said, “so you can be with that mortal man you love.”

Yuri was silent for a moment. 

“It isn’t my place to question the gods, their ways are beyond me,” Seung-gil said. “I defer to their wisdom. But I fail to see their logic in this! Tell me, what good can possibly come from making a wandering star into an elemental, of all things? If you ask me, it sounds like a cosmic joke. A cruel thing to do.”

_ A wandering star? _ “I don’t understand,” Yuri said.

“Of course you don’t, you refuse to,” Seung-gil said. “You refuse to look at your past and understand what you are.” He shut his eyes for a second, and Yuri felt as though he’d just been cut loose from the gallows. He began to cough and clutch at his chest. 

Seung-gil turned to Guang Hong. “You serve the golden dragon of the sun, don’t you, my friend?” he asked.

Guang Hong bowed. “Wholeheartedly,” he said.

“You can feel your destiny, can’t you?” This time it was Guang Hong’s turn to be held in the invisible stream coming from the Guardian’s eyes. “For all the misery you’ve seen on Earth, you know that your path is clear. Your destiny is clean.”

“I...I have never doubted this,” Guang Hong said, his voice trembling slightly. He had no conscious memories of ever speaking with a messenger of the gods like this. And the alien nature of the temple of ice made the effect even more awe-inspiring. 

“I’m sure the great dragon will be pleased to see another one of his children dreamwalking,” Seung-gil said almost casually.

Yuri felt immediately bitter. He hadn’t known the Guardian was even capable of speaking with something like kindness. 

“Yes, how  _ does _ one please the gods?” Seung-gil asked, turning back to Yuri, burning his body in the stream of his sight. “Besides merely begging over and over for answers and help?”

Yuri saw the crosshatched pattern from his strange armor appear on the surface of his skin, making it look like serpent scales. 

“Yuri, if you think your constant petitions haven’t been heard, you are a complete and total fool,” Seung-gil said, his voice steeped in anger. 

Yuri’s skin began to fall off of him in little lozenge-shaped pieces. He scrambled to pick it up, but it was no use.

“Yuri!” Seung-gil screamed, and the force of it reduced his astral body to dust. His wings crumbled away. 

Slowly, a figure stood up from the sparkling pile on the temple floor, tall enough to reach the temple ceiling. It was not a child, but an adult; something that was neither a woman nor a man, with long, white hair that reached its feet. It looked at Seung-gil from two dark voids in place of eyes. 

Seung-gil gave a satisfied nod. “So now you claim you are up against some great force that is beyond you. Well, if you really want to succeed in this trial, Yuri, you must be willing to do what you have not yet done, and go where you have refused to go.” He held up his hand and the glittering ashes on the floor rose up to meet it. They arranged themselves back into the shape of the human-like fairy. Seung-gil blew across his palm and the channels of light in the wings began to glow again.

The marble-like giant knelt down on the temple floor. It took the small, levitating body in its hands and looked down on it with pity. Seung-gil clicked his fingers, and a dark field emerged around the fairy, revealing Kerebos’s symbols.

“The curse on him is already breaking, but there’s no guarantee that it will break completely,” Seung-gil said to the giant. “At this rate, I give him at best a fifty percent chance of survival. You’re going to need to do something drastic if you’re going to save him.” Seung-gil raised up his hand again and conjured a figure made of shimmering ice, a centaur with enormous wings. The giant reached down to pick it up as well, recognizing it immediately as Otabek.

“Yuri’s poor lover is every bit as lost as he is,” Seung-gil said. “What realm he comes from, I don’t know, precisely. Why he lives on the Earth, I don’t know either. Human life doesn’t suit him. He is anxious and miserable there.” Seung-gil folded his arms again and looked up at the giant. “Perhaps in that regard, they’re perfect for each other. Each one bitterly resisting his incarnation on the Earth.”

The giant held up the two figures and studied them.

“Whether it serves some greater purpose, or whether it’s just some kind of punishment, that’s for the two of them to find out. Yuri…” Seung-gil levitated up into the air to look the giant in the face. “I am absolutely sick of your nonsense. Go and find out where you come from. And if you’re afraid to look, then for god’s sake, take a dragon with you! Have your friend here put in a good word for you on the sun.”

Guang Hong gasped. “I can do that?”

“Of course you can,” Seung-gil said. “All fire knows fire. If you ask, they will listen to you.” He turned back to the giant. “Go and find out why Kerebos hates you so much, why he was so afraid of you.”

The giant crushed the two figures in its palms and ate the dust. Then its own body began to dissolve, shrinking down until Yuri was standing in his long white coat again in front of Seung-gil and Guang Hong. “I hate you,” Yuri said to the Guardian.

“One day, you are going to thank me,” he said.

“I know, that’s what I hate,” Yuri said. “Come on,” he said to Guang Hong. “We should get back to Otabek and Leo.”

But Guang Hong was frozen, looking at Yuri in disbelief.

Seung-gil lay a hand on Guang Hong’s shoulder. “Don’t be too intimidated, my friend,” he said. “Most beings in the astral worlds are not quite what they appear.” 

Yuri created a tree out of ice. He looked at Guang Hong and nodded. They vanished from the temple, guided back by the Tree.

❄

Yuri walked with Guang Hong through a dark patch of trees behind the building where the General lived. A little bathhouse was lit up by lanterns, steam piping from the roof. 

“Forty hells, I wasn’t expecting to get cosmically chastised like that,” Yuri said. “I’m sure that holy prick Seung-gil just  _ loved _ having someone to embarrass me in front of!” He walked with his arms crossed, too incensed to fly. 

“Embarrass you?” Guang Hong turned to him, still not having fully collected himself. “Yuri, that was surreal...that was unlike anything I’ve ever seen!” He clutched his hand to his heart. “And to think that I could speak to the dragon myself…” His voice trailed off as they reached the wood hut. Guang Hong clicked his fingers. He sat on Yuri’s astral shoulder as the two of them peered through the window. 

Through the steam, Yuri saw a mess of black leaves and copulating bodies. A few laughing men whipped each other’s backsides with birch branches. Yuri wasn’t sure whether to be aroused or be sick. 

“Oh my,” Guang Hong said. 

“What, are you surprised?” Yuri asked.

“Well, a little,” Guang Hong’s voice was nervous.

“Have you really never seen men do this? Or women, for that matter?” 

“Well, um…” Guang Hong squirmed about on Yuri’s shoulder.

“And how long did you say you were a hearth salamander for?”

Guang Hong sighed.

“You’ve watched, admit it,” Yuri said. “Come on, haven’t you ever wanted to see Leo this way? Everyone knows you’re absolutely mad about him.”

“I don’t really think about anyone that way, Yuri. Those are very human thoughts, you know.” He sat with his knees to his chest, his flame a little dimmer. 

“You can be human when you want to be,” Yuri said. A few of the men moved and Yuri saw Otabek sitting on a low bench along the wall, surrounded by a golden astral light. His head was tilted back, his face flushed. Another dark head bobbed between his legs.

“God damn it!” Yuri pounded his fist against the glass. It rattled and nearly cracked. The men went quiet.

“What was that?” someone asked.

“Hey, there’s someone there!” a man pointed at the window.

It was sober Otabek who got up. He threw a towel around his waist and opened the door. Katsuki came stumbling after him, and draped his arms around Otabek’s waist. The light from inside cast Yuri’s long shadow onto the snowy path. 

Otabek had no trace of leaves on his body. Astral light shone out of his back, like wings. Yuri looked straight at him. 

_ You are shining like a god in this place, and I am not allowed to have you.  _

“I’ve already been torn to pieces enough times tonight, thank you very much,” Yuri said to Guang Hong. “Travel without me. I need to go home.”

Yuri began to draw a portal. Otabek pulled Katsuki back inside and shut the door.

  
  


❄

“There’s no one there,” Otabek said, loud enough that Yuri could hear.

“But there was a shadow, did you see it?” Katsuki asked, flustered. “That strange shadow--”

Otabek pressed him up against the wall and kissed him underneath his jaw. “Wind and branches. You, my friend, have had far more to drink than I have.”

Viktor walked up behind them. He licked the back of Otabek’s neck and grabbed his hips; he found Otabek’s half-hard erection and stroked it back to life. He took Otabek by the shoulders and made him sit down so that Katsuki could finish up where he left off, while he took Katsuki from behind.

Otabek found it hard to succumb to the heat, the pressure, the madness of the bathhouse. These were not the beautiful eyes he wanted looking up at him, devouring him. The General had a phenomenal body and the contours of his tight, chiseled muscles gleamed in the low light, but this was not the body Otabek wanted to gaze at. 

He forced himself to give in; his mind was already by a lake far away. Viktor pulled Katsuki back by his hair, and Otabek painted his face. Even with the splendid figures panting in front of him, Otabek realized he’d never felt so drained or tired. 

  
  


❄

The Tree brought Otabek to Yuri’s lake. Yuri lay stretched out on the surface of the water, looking up at the stars. He didn’t look at Otabek approaching. Otabek stretched out his own wings and lay down next to Yuri. For a moment, they said nothing.

“I’m sorry,” Otabek whispered.

“I’m not mad at you,” Yuri said flatly. “I’m mad at Kerebos for depriving me of a body.”

Otabek turned on his side, confused. “You aren’t upset with me?”

“Oh, I’m _plenty_ upset, just not with you,” Yuri said, still looking at the sky. “How can I be mad at you? You live in the human world, you live in a body that I can’t touch.” He sighed deeply. He started to sink under the surface. “I begged the Tree for advice and it showed me a mirror!” he said. “How can I be mad at you for doing something I would have done, too? I wanted to be in there with you!” He let himself sink.

Otabek reached down and pulled Yuri out of the water. He carried him to the shore, and Yuri sat on his lap. 

“I went to the temple,” Yuri said, his voice hoarse and hollow. “The Guardian there told me that if I want to get rid of Kerebos’ spell, I have to go to the cliffs.”

“The cliffs?”

“Where those memories are stored. Like Michele’s.” Yuri sank forward and wrapped his arms around his knees. He began sobbing uncontrollably. 

Otabek wasn’t sure what to do. He sat on the shore, stroking Yuri’s hair, and noticed a bright, crystalline liquid spilling out onto the ground over Yuri’s arms. When Yuri sat up again, his eyes had turned solid black, the starry liquid light still flowing from them. 

Yuri reached up and touched Otabek’s face.

“What is it?” Otabek asked.

Yuri smiled faintly. “No leaves this time.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri finally faces what he'd been hiding, with help from Otabek and a very sunny guide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm excited to have this chapter done, this was a big one for me! Next up, Yuri faces off with Kerebos, and Otabek contends with Petukhov's cronies.

Otabek tried to wipe the metallic tears away from Yuri’s face, but he found that they would not stop. He saw tiny points of light inside Yuri’s eyes, as if the night sky were captured in glass, and he could clearly see the two threads leading to the sleeping man and the porcelain doll waiting back in St. Petersburg. 

“Yura,” Otabek said, “let’s finish this. If the Guardian you spoke to told you what you need to do, then let’s not waste time. I’ll go with you. In fact, tonight is probably the perfect time for me to go with you. I feel more clear-headed than ever.”

Yuri looked up at him. “Beka...how difficult do you think it was for Sara to see the inside of her brother’s fortress?”

“Well...I know it was hard for her,” he said. “And I think she’s a strong person. But Yuri, I don’t think she’s any stronger of a person than you are.”

Yuri looked at his hands. “I think I may have created this whole existence just to avoid seeing what’s in those cliffs,” he said.

Otabek was getting frustrated. He wanted to help Yuri move on, but he was afraid to ask him to do something that he couldn’t do himself. “But if the Guardian told you...well surely it must be possible, isn’t it?”

Yuri sighed and wiped his eyes with his arm, flinging more starry lights onto the ground. 

“Look, I don’t want to cause you any more pain, Yura, but I’m tired of seeing you like this. I’m tired of watching you suffer without your body. And I’m tired of you not being in my world, having to keep you a secret and treat you like a ghost, when I know you are just as real as the people around me.”

Yuri nodded slowly and blinked rapidly. His eyes turned back to their pale bluish green. He spoke in a solemn tone.

“I don’t know what this is going to do to me,” he said. “I don’t know how it will change me. It might make me into something completely different from what I am now. If that happens, Beka, I just want you to know that as I am now, as you know me...I love you.”

❅

Little gold birds hopped about in front of them on the wooded path, pecking at the flaming red seeds from the burning trees all around them. Otabek wore his leather armor again, Yuri was in his leopard skin and sandals.

Yuri looked around. “What kind of cosmic joke is this? I told the Tree to take me to my cliffs!” He stamped his foot on the ground, too agitated to fly. 

Otabek took his hand and started walking. “I’m sure we’re here for a reason,” he said. “We have to be. Come on, let’s go find out.” He dragged a reluctant Yuri along with him. 

Soon their pathway opened up onto a series of descending stone terraces, cut out of the same brilliant red and pink marble as the temple they visited before. They stepped onto a wide balcony that looked down at a huge valley below. Their temple had been nothing but a little forest outpost compared to the city carved in stone beneath them. Great complexes of buildings snaked their way down the sides of the mountains. On the top of the mountain across from them stood a temple made entirely of gold. 

Yuri looked down at the figures milling about. Some were people, some were horses, some were centaurs. Monks in red robes like Guang Hong’s walked by; soldiers dressed in armor and kilts like Otabek’s stood outside the entrances to some of the doors.  _ Well that’s interesting _ , Yuri thought. He looked at the sky. There was no sun here, either. Everything appeared to generate its own light. 

He heard a rustling of leaves behind him. “Yuri?” a young woman’s voice said.

He turned around. The speaker wore a long, gold dress with no sleeves that clung to her body and a gold circlet; her dark hair flowed down her shoulders.

“Don’t you recognize me?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, but no,” Yuri said. Then he noticed a pendant hanging from her neck that looked like a smoky glass, full of a moving, swirling liquid. 

“I came to thank you, Yuri. For bringing this back to me.” She unhooked the chain and held up the little glass orb. Yuri recognized the smoke inside it. The swirling formed a face: the ghost from the absinthe bar.

So this was the being that piece of a soul belonged to? She looked like a Guardian to Yuri, or some kind of minor deity; the frail woman she’d been was nothing but a shadow of what she was here. “I…” he started to back away, “uh, you’re welcome, but...I don’t understand why you would want that back,” he said.

The woman shrugged. “Because it’s mine. It’s as simple as that.” She smiled. “It’s very hard to move on when some parts of you are left behind.” She took a step forward. “My name is Sephirah,” she said. “Yuri, will you give me your hand? I have something I want to give you.”

Yuri hesitated. “Yuri,” Sephirah said, “just because you didn’t intend to help doesn’t mean you didn’t make a difference. I’m able to perform magic of a different order now. Won’t you let me show you?”

He held his hand out, still a bit tentative. She clasped both of her hands around his, and shut her eyes. He could feel the coldness of the pendant in contrast to the warmth of her hands.

“This is called a Sun Flower,” she said. Yuri felt something spreading out across the surface of his palm, it burned, and yet it didn’t hurt. “It’s a very concentrated form of the sun’s magic.” Sephirah opened her eyes slowly. “Any time you find yourself in danger, or if there is something you need, call on it, and use it. It has four petals. Here, look.”

Yuri drew back his hand. A faint shape with four petal-like points glowed on the skin of his palm. “Why are you giving me this?”

“Because you helped me,” Sephirah said. “So now it is my turn to help you. It’s as simple as that.” She bowed her head. 

“Wait a second,” Otabek whispered. “Are we...on the sun?”

“Indeed, my friends!” said another voice from behind them. A young man with shiny, short dark hair and skin like warm amber stepped out from behind a grove of flaming trees. He wore a simple gold tunic, not unlike Sephirah’s dress, and red velvet slippers. A hamster sat on his shoulder, chewing something; it was gold like every other animal they’d encountered. He walked up to them, and Sephirah gave a deep curtsy. 

“Well then, now that your guide is here, I’ll take my leave,” Sephirah said. “Farewell to you.” She clasped the strange pendant around her neck again. The little gold birds followed her as she walked toward the entrance of a temple.

“You’re our guide?” Yuri turned to the young man.

“I am,” he said. He was cheerful in a way that Yuri found off-putting. “I hear from the Tree that you were instructed to bring a dragon with you where you’re going, is that correct?”

“Uh...it is,” Yuri said.

Otabek cocked his head. “Are you a dragon?”

“I am.” The man smiled wide. “Now, follow me.” 

“I am just going to stop questioning things,” Otabek said.

“Not at all, ask all the questions you want to!” the man said. “Now, they may not get answered immediately, and they may not get answered in the way you expect. But! That doesn’t mean you should stop asking questions!”

He led them down a long, winding series of steps deep into the red city beneath them. 

“Well, to begin, what’s your name?” Otabek asked.

“I am called Phichit!” He said proudly. 

“And you come from the sun?” Otabek asked.

“I do!” Phichit took the hamster and set it on a little pedestal outside yet another temple, this one carved in an entirely different style from the one Sephirah tended to. The two guards bowed as they walked past.

“Hey, Phichit. Can you tell me why Otabek is dressed like all the guards here?” Yuri asked.

He touched a finger to his lips. “No,” he said. “But! Otabek will find out for himself once he makes the kind of journey you’re making, Yuri.”

Yuri and Otabek looked at each other. They walked through the winding main street in the very center of the valley. There were no buildings that looked like houses, offices, or schools. Everything seemed to be a temple of some kind. Yuri noticed the horses were watching Otabek, and beginning to follow him. 

At the far end of the city was an enormous gold gate covered in a motif of elaborate swirls that opened out onto a patch of red desert. 

“What is this?” Otabek asked. By now a crowd of horses was waiting behind him. 

“This is a Dragon’s portal,” Phichit said. 

The phrase alone made Yuri shiver. An ancient echo of fear moved through him. 

One of the horses nibbled and sniffed at Otabek’s shoulder, where the emblem of feathers was pulsing with light. “Stop that,” Otabek said, waving him away. The horse did it again. 

“Show them, Otabek,” Phichit said. “They want to see your wings.”

He let the wings unfold, with a confused look on his face. Then the herd of horses all did the same: in an instant, huge, gold pegasus wings unfurled with a mighty whoosh. Phichit laughed, a bright, clear sound that echoed through the valley. 

“Next time, my friends. Next time.” Phichit stroked the curious horse’s nose. “Tonight we are traveling on behalf of Yuri.” 

Yuri began to back away from the gate, but Otabek put his arm around his shoulders. Phichit raised up his hand, and the space between the great pillars was filled with a sheet of liquid gold. 

“I don’t want to go,” Yuri said.

Phichit looked at him. “Are you sure?”

Yuri was speechless for a moment. 

“If you really didn’t want to go, the Tree would not allow this portal to open,” Phichit said. He smiled again. “It’s all right. Just let the part of you that wants to go do the walking.”

Yuri didn’t move, and Otabek was not about to drag him. “Yuri,” Otabek said, “I’ll do it too. Once this journey is over, I’ll make the same one, and we’ll see what’s waiting for me. You’ll come with me for that, won’t you?”

Phichit walked through the rippling liquid. Otabek stepped through halfway. He turned around and held out his hand to Yuri.

Yuri took it.  _ I’d follow you into hell,  _ he thought.

❄

“I hate this place,” Yuri said. “I wished to never come back here.”

He stood with Otabek and Phichit looking up at an enormous ice shelf, many miles wide, and many miles thick. A glacial continent. In front of them was a narrow tunnel that led inside. 

“That was very clever of you, Yuri, to freeze an entire ocean,” Phichit said. He walked inside the tunnel and knocked on the walls. “Ice so thick, you’d think it could never melt.”

Yuri and Otabek followed him inside. A cavernous space opened up. Phichit raised up his hand and a soft, diffuse light filled it, reflecting gold off the bluish walls. 

“Look around Yuri,” Phichit said. “Tell me what you remember.”

There were creatures frozen inside the ice; most looked nearly human and had long, flowing bodies with long fins for feet, and small, delicate hands with claw-like fingers. They had masses of jellyfish tendrils for hair and large, black eyes. Otabek was awestruck at the sight of the alien beings, like strange, stretched-out angels, made for the water. There were forests of corals unlike any that existed on Earth. Buildings made from living substances. Gigantic sea serpents, shells in fantastic, fractal-like shapes. “I could spend a lifetime trying to draw everything here, and never capture it all,” Otabek said. 

Yuri pressed his hand to the ice, against the frozen palm of one of the siren-like creatures. “These were the Divers,” he said. “From my old planet.” His voice was thin and strained.

“You lived on a different planet before?” Otabek asked. 

He shook his head. “No,” he said. “I was their star.” As soon as he said this, his whole body began to glow a silvery white. Yuri sighed, and the light in the cavern turned even brighter. The creatures in the ice began to move. A frozen, glass-like wall still separated them from the three travelers. “It was covered entirely by water,” Yuri said, remembering. “But it had forests, canyons, and deserts, just like the Earth.” A single tear rolled down his cheek. “I loved that planet so much.” He stood still for a moment. “I loved it more than I thought it was possible to love anything.” He started to feel like his astral body might fall apart again, turn to dust the way it had in the temple. He willed it to stay together. 

They walked through the cavern. On either side of them stood cities that were grown instead of built. Creatures that emitted their own light were gathered up to illuminate the dark, underwater night. The Divers signed to each other with their hands. There were hunts for the strange, exotic fish. Majestic seaweed gardens. Dancing. “A whole civilization,” Yuri said. “I watched it grow.”

As they walked farther into the cavern, the nature of the cities changed. From simple clusters of caves they became networks of tall, spiral towers and translucent domes that pulsed and glowed with patterns of colored light. The Divers were adorned with jewelry carved from shell and bone. The patterns became more intricate, the styles more varied. A flourishing, artistic society.

“Something you should know about stars, Otabek, is this,” Phichit said. “When a living planet is born, it enters into a contract with its star. The star feeds it light and heat, and the planet feeds the star energy, in the form of thoughts and feelings. If either of them dies, the other dies as well. It’s an unavoidable fact of life in the universe, but it will be a long time before the scientists of Earth rediscover it.” He had a satisfied smile on his face.

“What do you mean, rediscover?” Otabek said.

“Ancient people knew all about it,” Phichit said. “They loved to worship the sun.” He walked on. 

Up ahead the cavern turned darker. The ruins of what looked like two white stone pillars lay ahead, surrounded by bits of stone and dust.

“Yuri...what happened to your planet?” Otabek asked cautiously.

Yuri’s face turned grim. “A parasite,” he said. His voice was flat and dry. “It turned the water black. And I couldn’t stop it.” He started sobbing again. 

Otabek walked over and wrapped his arms around him. The cavern was pitch black except for the silver and gold light coming from Yuri and Phichit. 

“Some bit of trash from another dead world,” Yuri said. “A meteor brought it. It infected everything.”

Phichit just watched calmly as Yuri’s memories unraveled. 

“And I couldn’t do anything!” Yuri screamed, still contained by Otabek. “In the past when they died, they came to me to rest before they were reborn. But this time there were millions of them! They died so fast, do you know how afraid they were?” He glared at Phichit, his body heaved with rage. “The Dragon’s gate…” he looked at the ruined pillars. “I tried to rush them all through it. And it didn’t work!” He collapsed onto Otabek, bright tears flowing. “They just...scattered...like dust...they were gone, lost to the winds of the universe...they hadn’t learned how to dream, they hadn’t had the chance to become what they were supposed to be…” He felt Otabek’s fluffy gold feathers make an arc around him. “So I took the gate and I destroyed it!” he growled. 

“Yuri…” Phichit examined the ruins. “You know that if you had left this gate intact, it would have taken you straight to me.”

“I would gladly have died...erased myself from the universe all together...if it would have stopped my planet from dying.” Yuri nearly whispered. “I would rather have become nothing than for them to have become nothing.”

“But you did,” Phichit said. “You did die. How many aeons did you wander about by yourself, grieving, before you finally landed on Earth?”

Yuri continued to soak Otabek’s tunic with tears. He had lost count. Eternities of loneliness, nearly incomprehensible to his mind. “It’s very hard to move on...when parts of you are left behind.” He repeated Sephirah’s words. “As far as I knew...all of them were a part of me. And they were all lost. How was I supposed to move on?” He sobbed.

“Yuri...do you really think all of the Divers were completely lost?” Phichit asked. “Yes, they were scattered, that’s true. But some of them made their way to other planets. They had a special affinity for planets with lots of water.”

Yuri looked up. 

Phichit put his hands on his hips and leaned forward. “Who was it that caught you, when you fell to Earth?”

“Oh my God...Lilia.” Yuri’s body began to soften. “Does she...does she know? Does she remember…”

Phichit smiled, but shook his head ‘no.’ “But! A part of her did recognize you.”

Yuri sat down with Otabek on a large piece of stone that had broken off from one of the great columns. Phichit continued to pace about, talking.

“So, you wanted to tend to life on a watery planet, but without getting too close,” Phichit said. “So becoming an ice elemental was a very clever idea! I have to applaud you for that, Yuri. After all, ice carries all the memories of water.”

“Yes,” Yuri said. “Now I remember...I signed a contract, it bound me to the Earth. It’s written on my back.” The pattern in his wings and on his skin was a giant sigil, a mandala. Then he was quiet for a moment. “In Guang Hong’s mandala, it said that every human carries a little piece of the sun. That was you, wasn’t it, who gave me this,” Yuri touched the center of his chest. “In the temple that day.”

Phichit laughed. The space around them started to get lighter. “Indeed it was!” More laughter. The walls around them began to crack. They rose up into the air above the slabs of splintering ice and the rush of dark water. “I saw that your destiny was changing, and very fast! So I decided that you needed it.”

An instant passed that felt like it had an eternity of time compressed into it. In front of them was no longer the bright, jovial young man, but a gold dragon the size of a city. A seemingly endless ocean sparkled beneath them. Phichit tricked them, Yuri thought. He was just any minor dragon. It was  _ the _ dragon, the heart of the sun itself. 

Yuri stretched out, feeling the odd sensations of an astral body he hadn’t possessed in many millenia. A silvery white dragon, about half the size of the sun god in front of him. Otabek sat on one of his whiskers, holding on to one of his scales. 

_ You melted my ice _ , Yuri said, an echo in the space.

_ Because you gave me permission to, _ the sun replied.  _ All of your memories will be safe here, until the end of time, _ he said. His voice was everywhere and nowhere, like the Tree of Life.  _ You should have had aeons to watch over your planet. Hundreds of civilizations to rise and fall. Perhaps no other star has seen sorrow like yours. One day, I will have to say goodbye to my planet, too.  _

Even in his state of massiveness, vastness beyond what the small, angry fairy could know, he still sensed the rise of the physical sun about to happen. 

_ Nothing is so inspiring to the gods as a being who sincerely wishes to change _ , the sun said. 

Then Yuri felt a whisper, a voice directed only to him. _ Yuri! I can read the conditions of the curse you carry. To me they are as clear as day!  _ There was an echo of laughter.  _ You remembered the true love you felt ages ago, and now your ancient body is returned to you. When you feel this true love again in the physical world, your physical body will also be restored. It is cosmic law. So go, and don’t be afraid! It will happen for you, sure as the dawn. _

❄ __

In the week that followed, Otabek had to be extremely careful. Yuri was now fully and clearly visible to him, though still not fully tangible, and Otabek had to be sure not to talk too loudly in response to the voice that only he could hear. By night, Aruzhan played him ancient songs about the horses on the sun, Yuri whisked him off into the astral woods to seduce him, and symbols and images from unknown sources sowed themselves into his mind like seeds. He felt as though he were on fire. Ideas flowed without end. He’d never worked more quickly, his thoughts felt faster than ever. Yuri conjured icy models of his drawings, allowing him to test his designs more easily than before. Leo, too, had begun having uncanny and inspiring dreams. The two of them worked like madmen, kept awake by a mysterious force. They were creating a new class of ammunition, a new project that was sure to make the unimaginably wealthy tsar even richer, and their detractors even more suspicious. 

Otabek had lost interest in money. Now all he was interested in was the fire. 

Yuri still longed to touch Otabek with his physical body; that desire hadn’t abated at all, it burned brighter than ever. But just as Yuri felt he was about to fly into another fit of rage at Kerebos, he sat in the window and stretched his astral wings out to the sun. 

He had dreams that even he struggled to remember. Some vast, ancient part of him, this silvery dragon, was roaming about the cosmos, visiting planets like a bee hopping from flower to flower. Yuri could only discern vague whispers of what this part of him was seeing. He would never attain the greatness of the Earth’s sun; the source of his power was dead and gone. But some part of him remembered what it was like to smile at a planet, and took great pleasure in sniffing out the scattered seeds of a lost world. 

When the weekend finally came, Otabek packed extra notebooks to take with him to Berezhovoye. He was sure the stream of images wouldn’t cease; he prayed it wouldn’t, even though both his mind and body badly needed rest. His friends teased him about bringing back an apprentice. He assured them he would. 

But Gorky and Petukhov caught wind of Otabek’s plan to retreat to the Countess’ home again. From the courtyard, they’d been seeing what looked like strange, sparkling panes of blue stained glass in Otabek’s window that seemed to disappear and reappear throughout the week. 

Late at night, at the edge of the city, Petukhov met with two men wearing heavy cloaks, their faces obscured by their dark hoods. “About two miles from the Babichev estate, on the road back toward the city, there is a very remote stretch with no houses or farms nearby,” he said. “Wait for him there. No one will see you or hear you.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri gets his body back, but he needs all the magic he can conjure to help Otabek. Kerebos bears the full brunt of Yuri's rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a trip to write! I've had these scenes in my head for nearly a year now, it felt so good to get them out. I might edit this one a little bit later on for pacing, but I really wanted to get an update in.

Otabek pushed open the door to the bookshop. The little bell rang, but the bookseller was nowhere to be seen, and it was nearly closing time.

“Hello? Pavel Andreevich?” 

“Come in!” called a voice from the back. 

Otabek wove through the narrow labyrinth of shelves until he reached a little office piled high with papers and curious objects, not terribly unlike his own. The bookseller was a stout, friendly man with a reddish beard and small glasses. Otabek was one of his frequent customers.

“I’m sorry to come in so late--”

“No, no, not at all! Your timing is perfect.” Pavel unwrapped a large parcel covered in brown paper. Inside was a book with marbled edges and an embossed cover: a compendium of the stringed instruments of Europe and Asia. He handed it to Otabek. “I was so impressed with it, I asked the publisher for five more copies,” he said. “One for myself and my daughters, and the others for the shop. Here, have a look.”

Otabek leafed through the pages. It was easily the most expensive book he’d ever bought. The text was in French, and the book contained hundreds of engravings and full-color plates of the instruments. Spanish guitars, Russian balalaikas, Chinese sanxian and guzheng, but most importantly, the dombra. He lay the book on Pavel’s crowded table and studied the illustrations of it. Many of the entries included schematics and cross-sections. This was perfect.

“You know, Kostinin down the street sometimes gets rare instruments in for his piano shop,” Pavel said. “Perhaps he could help you find one?”

“I thought of asking him,” Otabek said, still mesmerized by the drawing, feeling memories of his childhood come flooding back. “I bought a beautiful guitar from him last year. But this...ah, this is a little bit different,” he said. “This one, I need to make myself.”

“Sounds like quite the undertaking,” Pavel said. He lit his pipe, and the little room was filled with pungent smoke.

“My great-grandfather made instruments,” Otabek said with a wistful smile. “I’m afraid they’ve all been lost to time, but, if it’s in my blood, I think I’ll manage. I have to take a break from guns and cannons from time to time.” He lay the book back in its box, and Pavel wrapped it back up for him. “By the way,” Otabek said, “you might want to save a copy for the Countess Babicheva. I have a feeling you may get an order from her soon.”

Pavel grinned. “Anything for the Countess. She’s quite the collector.” The curling smoke framed his face. 

Otabek took his leave and stepped out into the clear, early evening air. 

Yuri crawled out of his breast pocket. “My god, I thought that smoke was going to suffocate you. Yuck.”

“I see your senses are as sharp as ever,” Otabek said softly. 

“I just about called on the Tree to escape it,” Yuri said. 

Otabek chuckled and unlocked the door to his building. “If it affects you this strongly now, I’m afraid you may well find some places truly unbearable once you’re restored to your old self.”

“Psh. Some of them are already unbearable,” Yuri said. “But it’s not the smell, it’s the conversation.”

“What a jewel you’re going to be at parties,” Otabek said. He opened the door to his apartment.

“I thought I was your excuse to leave early,” Yuri said.

Otabek set down his belongings and sank into the couch. “Well, that too.” He sighed deeply and looked out the window, across the river below. “My god, I am tired.” He rubbed his face. “I got so excited about the book, it eluded me. But good lord, now that I have a chance to take a break...I feel as though my arms and legs might give out.”

“It isn’t good for you to be in an office for so many hours at a time, standing over that desk, Beka.” Yuri clicked his fingers, and his shadow emerged on the wall behind them, next to Otabek’s. “It isn’t good for me either, you know.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said. He tilted his head back and shut his eyes. The silver thread from Yuri led to Otabek’s suitcase, waiting by the door. The doll was packed carefully inside. Having Yuri’s physical body closer to the lake again would help serve as an anchor for the magic he needed to conduct. Otabek and Yuri both were long overdue for a visit to Berezhovoye. 

“Beka...do you have to be in your office all the time? Now that you have these patents on the horizon, couldn’t you find somewhere else to work? Maybe a house or a workshop closer to the lake?” Yuri asked.

“I’m not sure, Yura,” he said. “I like the idea. If I could spend my days doing nothing but riding horses, reading books, and building instruments and music boxes, I think I would be the happiest man on Earth.” Otabek stretched his legs out. “But I still have to tread carefully at the Academy. My time is still not totally my own. I don’t yet have the authority to work wherever I please.”

The sun made the shadow of Yuri’s wings glow blue. “Fine. Then I’ll do whatever I can to help you get that freedom.”

Otabek slouched forward on the couch. “I wish I could be like you, you know, and live off the air and the sunlight alone. But unfortunately, I have to eat. And to eat, I have to have money. You know, Yura,” Otabek sighed, “sometimes I think every human is an elemental being. But their element is money. The thing they have to know inside and out, the thing they spend their whole existence pursuing. Gold and the earth. We’re bound to it.”

“Only when you’re awake,” Yuri said. 

“Perhaps you’re not wrong about that,” Otabek said. “I still wish I were as free in waking life as I am with you.”

“But isn’t it already happening?” Yuri said. “You already feel different, don’t you?”

Otabek turned to the spectre next to him. “You know, usually when someone tells me I’m wrong, I resent them for it. But yes, some things are already different. Besides the drawings and the images.” He gave a tired smile. “I just thought your curse would lift sooner than mine.” 

Otabek took his watch from his pocket. The Crispinos’ driver would be arriving any minute. He gathered up his satchel and his suitcase, and walked back down the stairs with the tiny light riding in his scarf. 

He was surprised to see it was only Sara waiting in the carriage. 

"So good to see you, my dear." She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. 

"Likewise," Otabek said. "But where is your brother?" 

"He's had a sort of change of heart," Sara said. "There's a group of artists visiting from Florence, looking to sell some of their work and find some new clients to paint portraits of. Mickey offered to host them." She drew her shawl a little tighter around her. "I told him he had no need to do it all by himself, but he said he felt like he owed it to me."

"Artists?" Otabek asked. "I thought the topic of art and paintings was a sore one for him."

"I thought so too," Sara said. The pinkish evening light glowed through the window behind her. "But he insisted it was fine. He's taking them to Emil's for a casual dinner tonight, then tomorrow he plans to introduce them to Viktor. Frankly, I think he's wise to recruit some help."

"Undoubtedly," Otabek said. "He chose well, in any case. Maybe some of Christophe's clients will want paintings of themselves in his creations." He sighed and leaned back against the seat, looking out the window. 

"You look more tired than I've ever seen you," Sara said. 

"I'm in dire need of a break," Otabek said. "There are plans being drawn up for a new munitions factory outside the city, that's how riled up Viktor and Yakov are about this new project." White birch trees flicked past the window, the sounds of crows came and went. "You know, I'm thinking of buying a little place in Berezhevoye for myself. Just a little workshop, nothing spectacular. Just a retreat."

"Tell that to Mila," Sara said. "She has so much land, I'm sure she'd sell you a plot for a pittance. She'd love to have more of her friends nearby."

Otabek thought of Yurio's lake. He imagined a cabin, in the provincial style…

"Whatever happened to your challenging young man, by the way?" Sara nudged Otabek. "Did you win your bet, or were you just pulling our leg about all that?" 

"Well," Otabek said, "I suppose I can tell you. You did such a fine job of keeping our supernatural tasks a secret, after all. I'm sure I can trust you to continue." He held out his palm and the blue light drifted into it. "I never got to properly introduce you the other day. This is Yuri."

Sara looked at the little light and her eyes filled up with tears. “When I was a little girl, I used to see lights like this in our garden, all the time. They were different colors, I’d see them among the flowers...I was certain they were tiny beings. Sometimes they would fly around me, and I could swear I saw minuscule people inside them, and that they could hear me.” She reached out her hand and the little light flew into it. “But no one else could see them. Either that, or they chose not to show themselves to anyone else. Mickey couldn’t see them. He used to tell me I was acting crazy, just imagining things, and making things up.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “But I still saw them. After that, I gave up on speaking my mind about things for a while. I guess it drove a wedge between Mickey and me. I quit talking about things I noticed. If something seemed wrong, I kept it to myself.” She sighed deeply. Yuri hovered in the air, and she lowered her hand. “It took a number of years before I could speak to what I saw again. Sometimes I wonder, if I’d been more vocal, if perhaps Mickey wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I’m not exactly sure how it would have helped. I just wish it could have.” 

“It makes no sense to blame yourself for what happened, Sara,” Otabek said. “But listen to me, what a hypocrite I am. I used to wish all the time that if I’d done some things differently as a child, things might have turned out better for my family. It can’t be helped.”

Yuri clicked his fingers. His shadow appeared on the inner wall of the carriage, across from him. Sara flinched. Yuri’s profile was a little stretched from the angle of the sun, but it clearly suggested the form of a young man, and the blue stained glass glow swirled above his shoulders. “Oh my god,” Sara said. “Your long-haired man...is he a ghost?” 

“What do you mean?” Otabek asked. 

“Casting the shadow,” she said, her voice tentative and thin, “it looks like a person made of glass...or as if smoke could stand still...I’m sorry, I’m not making any sense.” She shook her head. “But this...he was with you. In the dream…”

Otabek put his arm around her. “Sara, those little lights you saw when you were young...they were real, I’m sure of it. And I’m sure that if you keep remembering your dreams, you’ll meet many more of them. Yuri here should be as solid and real as you or me, but there’s some strange magic at work, keeping him hidden from us. That’s the real bet. It’s not whether I can make it a night without drinking, it’s whether I can crack what’s making him appear like a ghost.” He felt Sara shiver. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I know this is a great deal to show you at once. I don’t mean to upset you. It’s just that very few people can see beings like this at all.” Sara nodded. Then Otabek heard Yuri whisper something faint to him.

“You know, you were right about something, Sara,” Otabek said. “Those little lights don’t show themselves to just anyone. There are only certain people they want to see them.” This made her smile faintly. “And, well, who knows. Maybe that enchantment...the time you spent in your garden...maybe it helped you more than you realized. Maybe it protected you, in a way.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Sara said. She gazed at the shimmering, translucent figure in front of her. She was quiet for a moment. “I miss those days,” she said quietly. “Back when things were magic. Before I was so worried all the time.” She took a deep breath. 

Yuri lifted up his glassy hand. It began to snow astral light inside the carriage. Little glimmering specks floated from the ceiling to the floor, catching the sun as it set through the window. 

“This is all so strange,” Sara said. “And yet in its own way, it’s kind of wonderful.”

“Those have been my exact thoughts for the last few weeks,” Otabek said. 

“Well I certainly hope you win your bet,” Sara said to Otabek. She turned to Yuri. “I’d very much like to meet you properly one day.”

❄

Otabek had an entirely new suite of melodies to play for Mila on the piano that night. He remembered the unusual songs from his dream wanderings with Aruzhan the week before. Mila gave Otabek the sheet music for the first song he’d played for her; she offered to transcribe the others, and come up with other parts. 

“Once I’m free from bombs and cannons, I very much want to make some music boxes with these melodies,” he said. “I’m sure there are none quite like them anywhere in the world.”

Sara remembered a bit more of her lessons on the guitar from when she was younger. They had a tranquil, musical evening; it was tonic to Otabek’s nerves. 

Otabek freed the doll from his suitcase and set it on a chair next to his bed before he went to sleep. “How my life has changed in such a short time,” he mused, “since I picked up this strange little thing.”

“ _ Your _ life has changed?” Yuri retorted. 

Otabek laughed, but he felt guilty. His days were full to bursting, and at night, he roamed about with Yuri, satisfying his every urge and inclination. He felt a depth of contentment in spite of his exhaustion. But his happiness couldn’t really be complete until Yuri was free. 

That night, Yuri kissed him goodbye and darted off to help Kolya. Otabek walked through the herb garden with Dunya and Sara, each of them the size of a moth. The blades of grass towered above their heads. They listened to the orchestra of crickets. 

“I tried to bring Mila with me, but she was already gone,” Sara said. “I saw the thread coming from her body. But there was no way for me to call to her. I wanted so badly for her to see this, to come travel with me…”

“But she is already traveling, my dear,” Dunya said. Her antennae swayed gently as she walked. “Some people have very busy dream lives. It’s not just you and Otabek who rush around in the astral realms trying to help people.” She fluffed up a bit. “It’s often the case that a person travels extensively in the night, and doesn’t remember a bit of it until they breathe their last. Sometimes it even works better that way. Their daily life isn’t interrupted by the enormous work they do in sleep, and they can fully leave their earthly cares behind when the time comes to travel.”

“But where is she?” Sara asked. “And what is she doing?”

“Somewhere, very far from here on Earth, there are wars being fought,” Dunya said. “And many people are very lost, and quite terrified, understandably. That is where she goes. I believe her contract is a lifelong endeavor.”

Sara was crestfallen that Mila would never join her.

“Of course,” Dunya said, patting a large beetle on the head, “if you are determined to keep the secret, and not disturb the balance, maybe the Tree of Life will show you where she goes to work so passionately. But that is between you and the Tree.”

In the distance, Otabek could see the ritual Yuri and Kolya were conducting. Special symbols in the ether protected the trees. Some had released the last of their leaves, and were already being placed in a holy sleep that would last until the spring. 

In the days that followed, Otabek spent many hours riding Orion, all the way to Vaselkovo and back, scouting out places for a little dacha, and simply relishing the time alone to think. The ideas that came to him in dreams were splendid, but the trees had a silent way of speaking of him that set his mind in order and dispelled the fog of confusion. After all, they were all emblems of the Tree of Life. He shouldn’t have been surprised that they toned and refined his memory so easily. 

He wandered through Berezhevoye one afternoon, and stopped in the little tavern to have something to eat. The people seemed friendly enough; they were close enough to the city that it wasn’t unheard of for foreigners to visit from time to time. But he still felt harsh glances landing on him. Two men in heavy cloaks sat at the other side of the tavern hall, arguing over a game of dice. Otabek noticed they kept looking over at him, casting nasty looks in his direction, sizing him up. He left as soon as he finished his meal. 

But it wasn’t until it was time for him to return to St. Petersburg on his own that Otabek’s real troubles began.

❄

Grisha, the carriage driver, was used to the Countess’s eccentric friends; it didn’t surprise him terribly that Otabek seemed to talk to himself incessantly, as if another person were in the carriage with him. He paid it no mind, not fully able to discern what Otabek was saying either way. Rumor had it that Otabek was a genius inventor, a favorite of the General’s. Grisha was not about to question his ways. But one thing he did find curious. About two miles out from the Babichev estate, he noticed a thin trail of smoke emerging from the trees. There was only one house in the area that he knew of, a little hut that some old hermit lived in. So the smoke must have been coming from a campfire. And the only people who would camp in such an area…

Were highwaymen. 

A man on horseback blocked the road a short distance away. “Stop your carriage!” he shouted.

“Get out of the road!” Grisha called back.

“Stop your carriage, or I’ll shoot!” the mounted man said.

Yuri flew out the window to see what was happening. He spotted a second rider off to the side of them, through the trees. They’d been followed.

“It’s him!” the second man shouted.

“Beka, run!” Yuri screamed as loud as he could.

The first man shot Grisha before he could draw his own gun. The horses reared and bolted with the carriage. Otabek threw open the door and sprinted through the trees. But the second rider was gaining on him. His bullet tore through Otabek’s shoulder. A pool of blood spread out on the ground beneath him.

“Otabek!” Yuri hovered over him; he was coughing and writhing in pain.

The shooter dismounted and examined Otabek on the ground; he began taking off Otabek’s coat, looking for money, knives, his watch…

Yuri panicked. Otabek had no strength to fend off his assailant. “Otabek, hang on!” Yuri shouted. But a gold thread was beginning to emerge from Otabek’s chest.

“Good thing I’m gettin’ paid for this, you got nothing on you worth taking,” the man muttered.

Yuri felt frozen in time, stunned and helpless. The gold thread grew longer, brighter. 

_ Otabek, everything I went through...all those aeons of solitude...I would do it all again to be able to help you. _

_ I’d stay trapped in that stupid doll for eternity. _

_ I would erase myself from time.  _

_ Beka, please… _

❄

Dying felt so wonderfully easy. Like waking up from a painful dream. Otabek felt himself rise up out of his body, drifting, immersed in gold light. He stretched out his astral wings. He was free. On the horizon, the sun was setting. Calling to him. Soon, he would be home. 

He began to walk toward it. But what use were human feet? He could leave them behind. Soon, he could run on hooves made of fire again. 

He looked at the palm of his hand. There was something etched on it, in a faint white ink. A mandala. A snowflake. Otabek studied it for a moment, and remembered.

There was someone waiting for him. Someone he loved. They had barely gotten to be together...

On the horizon, Apollo’s horses were waiting; the sons of Abraxas. Otabek had run with them since the very first dawn. But behind him, there was someone else…

He stood still in the darkening woods. He was lost. He turned around.

A woman with black hair and a red tunic stood in front of him. She draped her arms over his shoulders. “You still have time,” she whispered in his ear, “if you want to go back.”

Otabek felt the etching on his palm. Memories of ice caves and flaming red trees streamed through his mind.

He put his arms around Aruzhan. “I need a guide,” he said. 

She whispered again, and Otabek heard the cosmic voice. “Do you want to go back to your body?” 

“Yes,” he said.

“Then follow me.”

❄

The first rider rifled through Otabek’s suitcase, flinging his books and papers about, searching for money and the drawings Petukhov demanded. He found a porcelain doll, and held it up, confused. “What the hell is this?” 

Dense, black smoke poured from the doll’s eyes, from its joints. The man threw it on the ground and began to run. He felt a flash of light and turned to look behind him. A man in a white coat held what looked like a silver pike... no, it was something like ice...

Yuri impaled the first man’s chest and left him to die. He snapped his fingers and flew to the second shooter; the man had his pistol pointed at Otabek’s face. 

“The worst is when they don’t die right away,” he groaned unceremoniously. He started to pull the trigger.

Five bright blades of ice severed his head from his body. He collapsed into a pile.

“Otabek!” Yuri knelt next to Otabek’s bleeding body. There was no response, but his heart was still beating, his body still warm.

_ This isn’t good… _ Yuri looked around. In the distance, Dunya the Grey Witch was already holding the astral hand of the very confused driver, Grisha. There were horses on the horizon, marching toward them. Gold like the sun, come to carry away the dead...

“This isn’t your time, you’re not going to die,” Yuri said, trembling. Then he saw a little mound of earth. Yuri flew to it and banged on the moss-covered door. “Kerebos!” he shouted. “Kerebos, get out here and help me, right now!” 

There was no response, only a rattling from the inside. 

“Kerebos!” Yuri screamed again. White astral flames engulfed the hillock. High up in the cosmos, a white dragon from the heart of a star roared so menacingly that the Black Earth dragon in the moss hut below nearly coughed up his own heart for fear. 

The warlock flung open the door. “I’m coming!”

Yuri grabbed his wrist and the two of them sprinted to the dying body among the trees. 

“Well? Are you a witch or aren’t you?!” Yuri growled. “Are you a physician or aren’t you?! Answer me, you worthless maggot!” Yuri slapped Kerebos across the face. 

Then he remembered his palm and gasped.  _ The Sun Flower! How could I have been so stupid? Sephirah, help me! _

“Yuri, no!” Kerebos grabbed Yuri’s wrist with a look of terror on his face. “These woods are my anchorage! If you use Sun Magic here, it will kill me!”

“Then I will gladly watch you die,” Yuri sneered. 

“Wait! Yuri, your tears! Put them on him!” Kerebos screamed.

“What?”

Kerebos swiped his hand across Yuri’s tear-streaked face, then stuck his hand in Otabek’s wound. A hissing sound and bright blue smoke emanated from the bloody mess.

“Yuri, quick, you have to put your tears on him!” Kerebos pulled Yuri to the ground and held his face above Otabek’s bleeding shoulder. 

Yuri took a breath. Then suddenly, he found he could not stop sobbing. He rested his hand on Otabek’s heart and slipped the other beneath his neck. 

Kerebos reached into the crater that was Otabek’s shoulder and pulled out the bullet. He kept his hand on Yuri’s back and knelt next to him while the drops of light fell onto Otabek’s body. The fibers of his muscles remembered their places; the blood vessels knit themselves back together. The pieces of shattered collarbone crept back into place, the flattened lungs filled with air again. Otabek coughed, and a streak of bright red blood spilled down his chin and neck. But he was breathing. He was alive, and groaning in pain.

“What is happening?” Yuri asked. His long white coat was soaked in Otabek’s blood. He had lost so much of it…

“Fairy tears have healing powers,” Kerebos said softly, looking at the transformation. “I’ve never seen it in my life,” he said. “For a fairy to shed true tears for a human…” he turned to Yuri. “My curse...you broke my curse!” Kerebos threw his arms around Yuri. “It’s a miracle!” He cried sloppy tears, sobbing into Yuri’s hair.

“Get off of me, you piece of filth!” Yuri screamed and wrenched his way out of Kerebos’s grip. “We aren’t finished here, you moron! You have to help me get him inside! It’s going to be nightfall soon!”

“Inside? Inside where?” 

Yuri looked at the hut.

“He can’t stay there, that’s my house, not a hospital!” Kerebos wailed.

“It’s just until I can get more help,” Yuri hissed. He held up his palm. “Or shall I go ahead and call on that help now?”

“All right! All right! I’ll help you! No need to be so dramatic--”

“You tried to kill me, you string of rat shit!” Yuri shouted. “I ought to do away with you here and now, but you’re more useful to me alive than dead, so shut up and help me carry him!” His eyes glowed with dragon fire. 

Kerebos blinked a few times. He took Otabek’s feet while Yuri carried him underneath his shoulders. 

They lay Otabek on the heavy rug in front of the fireplace in the little hut. Rows of tiny bottles lined the walls, bones and feathers hung from the ceiling, and a cauldron of something pungent bubbled over the fire. Yuri sank to his knees next to Otabek. He picked up Otabek’s hand and kissed it, he held it to his face, feeling the warmth and the pulse. 

Then he noticed that there was a white etching of a snowflake branded into Otabek’s physical palm. 


End file.
